


desire three shades distant

by lacquer



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Blood Drinking, Bodyguard, Developing Relationship, Exes, F/F, Getting Back Together, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, Polyamory Negotiations, Threesome - F/F/F, Weddings, ambassadors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:28:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22181821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacquer/pseuds/lacquer
Summary: Two days before Minghao, Seoul's vampiric ambassador, is to be married, someone tries to assassinate her fiance. Seokmin is lucky to be alive.Mingyu, head of Minghao’s security team, is determined to foil the next attempt. All she has to do is stick by the betrothed until the wedding is over, all the while ignoring her complicated feelings for the brides to be. Simple, right?"I just want to feel safe,” Seokmin had said into the warmth of Minghao’s mouth before they parted. And Minghao had given her a look, had given her another kiss, had given her Mingyu. Seokmin’s not quite sure how to feel about the last one.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Lee Seokmin | DK, Kim Mingyu/Lee Seokmin | DK/Xu Ming Hao | The8, Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8, Lee Seokmin | DK/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 30
Kudos: 147
Collections: Haggly Holidays!





	desire three shades distant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [earthshaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthshaker/gifts).



> dia!!!! i'm so absolutely thrilled to be able to write something for you, i hope you like it! you're such an amazing writer and person! you deserve nice things, i hope this year brings them to you, have an excellent 2020 <3333
> 
> i don't think the violence in this fic is that bad personally, but also there's enough that i think it's pertinent to warn for it.
> 
> thank you to riley and appia for looking at my outline and cheerleading!! thank you to aise for looking over the draft <3333 i appreciate all of you so much, any remaining errors are mine
> 
> emotionally this fic is written to saint motel - cold cold man and hozier - nfwmb, but in actual fact 60% of it got written to the pacific rim sound track, make of that what you will

_""How does distance look?" is a simple direct question. It extends from a spaceless within to the edge of what can be loved."_

-Anne Carson, _An Autobiography of Red_

The sunbomb goes off in Seokmin’s bedroom just as she is headed to sleep for the morning. Mingyu isn’t there to see its light bloom, a brilliance so thick it is nearly honey. She isn’t there to see Hansol tackle Seokmin to the ground, shielding her from the light. She isn’t there to see Seokmin’s arms _burn_ in the deluge, nearly catching fire where Hansol fails to cover her.

She is there, however, when Minghao gets the call alerting the two of them to the news.

In the darkened hush of their car, the ringtone is loud, cutting straight through the soft jazz Minghao had put on. It takes two seconds for Minghao to answer her phone, and only another two to snap to attention.

The other end of the conversation is inaudible from where Mingyu is sitting in the driver's seat, but she definitely hears it when Minghao _snarls_ into the speaker. “Take care of it. I’ll be back in half an hour.” It’s not a question.

Minghao’s eyes are blazing when she turns to Mingyu. “Cancel my appointments, I’m going home. Someone just tried to kill my fiance.”

* * *

When Mingyu pulls the car up to the house, Minghao barely waits until they’re in the garage before getting out, high heels clicking on the concrete. She moves far faster than a human could, hair a river of midnight over her shoulders.

Mingyu parks the car and follows her, shivering a bit in the winter air until she gets inside.

The Ambassador’s house is a two story building, sporting white-washed walls, and windows tinted with the latest sun-shield. Minghao’s touches are along the walls: a series of paintings, a tasteful vase of flowers. It's one of the most secure buildings in the entirety of Seoul. Up until half an hour ago, Mingyu would have staked her life on it being nearly impenetrable. She would have staked Minghao's life on it. Now she's not so sure.

The most secure place in the house is the living room, and so Mingyu heads there first, her sensible dress shoes quiet on the marble floors. When she turns the final corner, she pauses to take in the sight before her.

Seokmin, Minghao, Hansol, and Seungcheol are all in the room, all of them alive. They're ok. It unwinds something tangled and tense in Mingyu's chest to see a room full of the people she loves, safe.

Minghao is talking to Seungcheol , the head of the joint security team. He had been unanimously elected to the position after the engagement was finalized and it subsequently became clear that having one security team instead of two was far more efficient. Seokmin is by Minghao’s side, their fingers laced together. Even though they’re not looking at each other, the comfort of the gesture is obvious. Minghao’s head is tilted a little in her direction, unconsciously. The room is draped in red velvet, and against it, the three of them look like something out of a baroque painting. Mingyu looks away.

His back to the group, Hansol is on alert, eyes scanning the room for any danger. Mingyu relaxes a little more when she sees him. It’s not that she doesn’t trust the rest of Seokmin’s guards, but Hansol is the best of them all. He is also the reason Seokmin is still alive right now.

Walking up to his side, Mingyu turns to look back at the room, taking in its sight lines, its corners—all the ways a room can be turned against a person. “Tell me what happened.” 

Hansol hisses out a breath, carefully calm. From the corner of her eye, Mingyu can see his hands flex. “It came out of nowhere. I’m not sure how the bomb got into her bedroom in the first place, but the attackers knew what they were doing."

"Attackers?" Mingyu interrupts.

"I don't think this could have been done alone," Hansol says. His eyebrows furrow. “I still can’t figure out where the hole in our security is, but I don’t think it’s big enough that a person could get through without help.”

Mingyu makes a noise of assent, and Hansol continues, "It was sometime between her leaving her bedroom in the evening, and returning in the morning. The bomb was placed underneath the pillows. Josh is analyzing the remains, but from the looks of it, it was from somewhere off the grid. Untraceable." Hansol trails off, and Mingyu nods, just thinking.

A crackling rage has been growing in her ribcage, ever since she heard the news. Seokmin was supposed to be safe, Minghao had trusted her with that. And here, the only place the two of them let down their guards, Seokmin had almost died.

Mingyu wants to kill someone, wants to find whoever planned this and tear their heart out, present it to Minghao like a badge of honor. _Look, here is how you will be safe._ It’s not the most helpful thought she’s ever had.

Instead, she checks her phone in case Seungcheol had sent any messages while she was driving, and sets her feet more firmly, looking out at the room.

Behind her, Seokmin is reassuring Minghao in low tones even as Seungcheol debriefs them both. She’s speaking softly enough that all Mingyu can hear is the fact she’s saying something―none of the words register. Still, it’s comforting. She’s alive.

Mingyu doesn’t turn around, but it doesn’t take much to keep their image alive in her mind: Minghao’s head leaning ever so slightly towards Seokmin, both of them looking at Seungcheol. There’s a certainty to the two of them that Mingyu is jealous of on her bad days―something bedrock solid, as if the world could stop turning, and Minghao would still be leaning towards Seokmin, head tilted that smallest bit.

(Mingyu has been by Minghao’s side since she was a young girl. She’s only seen her this like this once―when they were dating each other. It hadn’t lasted then. Mingyu is going to make sure it does now.)

* * *

It goes like this: Minghao is born into a family of diplomats. She is taught how to smile like a knife from a young age, and educated in all the ways the world can wound. At twelve years old she can speak three languages, knows exactly the right angle to bow when a foreign dignitary passes by, and can summarize the history behind any long standing conflict in the world. She even has kidnapping insurance.

And then at thirteen, her parents send her away to boarding school in Korea. That’s… fine. She understands the ways a daughter could be used against them, and at school, Minghao is safe. She picks up painting. She starts to learn self defense. She aces every single one of her classes.

Her teachers send back reports that nearly glow. Minghao is driven. Minghao is polite. Minghao is brilliant in everything they throw at her.

They do not say: Minghao is so lonely that she feels like she is going to die.

She doesn't speak enough Korean or, more accurately, doesn’t speak the right Korean. She can converse about trading policy, but can’t talk about fashion. She can make polite conversation about the weather but can't quite figure out the intricacies of pop culture. It's fine. She's fine. Minghao is the daughter of diplomats. She knows how to survive in an unfamiliar country.

Perhaps she would have stayed like that too, except for meeting Mingyu.

Summer at the academy is a sweltering thing, humidity singing sweetly in the air, counterpoint to the sunlight soaking into her shoulders. Minghao is outside, painting the forest, when someone runs around the building corner and into her back, full-tilt.

Her paints go flying, and into the easel, smearing over the trees. Green becomes red becomes brown. Minghao, trapped beneath someone else’s body weight, tries not to curse. Fails.

“What the hell are you doing?” The words come easily to her lips, rougher than her parents would have approved of, but in this moment, Minghao is past caring.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry.” It's a girl, around Minghao's age, hair cropped around her ears, eyes wide. She smells like tiger balm and citrus, bruises up her shins. "I wasn't looking where I was going at all. I'm Kim Mingyu." She takes a look at the painting, which is now bleeding color into the grass and says again, "Oh my god."

Minghao expects another round of apologies, maybe for the other girl to offer some sort of recompense, but what she says instead is, "That's beautiful. How long have you been painting?"

It’s the start of a friendship that will last a lifetime.

* * *

Minghao is eighteen-going-on-nineteen, and still painting the forest, when someone runs into her back. They don’t knock her over though, simply whirl around until both of them are laughing, a dizzy sort of elation.

When she’s set down, Minghao looks behind her. Mingyu is standing there, arms akimbo, joy splashed across her face. “I’m back.”

“Welcome back,” says Minghao, and kisses her. Kisses her soft, kisses her sweet, underneath the pine trees, acrylic paint smeared across her cheekbones.

It feels like coming home, like the words to a song she’s always been singing for years now. She feels like laughing. She feels like dancing.

When Mingyu pulls back, it’s with a grin. “Miss me, then?”

“Always.”

* * *

Later that morning, after their security team has declared the building to be safe, after the danger has passed, the police come by to take statements. They act professional enough, but Mingyu can see the contempt in their eyes. Minghao and Seokmin may be two of the most highly positioned vampires in Seoul, but the stigma of their diet clings despite that.

The last officer, a woman by the name of Jieun, snaps her notebook shut. “That’s all we need from you, thank you all for you cooperation. We’ll be in touch regarding your case. Here’s my contact information.” She hands a business card to Mingyu, despite the fact that her comments had been addressed to Seokmin.

Mingyu takes it, noting how Jieun is careful not to touch her. Seokmin steps forward, and Mingyu hands the card to her. Their fingers brush; her hands are warm.

Minghao is a graceful shadow stepping up to Mingyu’s side. She’s still dressed for her meetings in a well fitted pantsuit and suit jacket, both in tasteful shades of red and black. Her lips are stained ruby. When she speaks, her voice is carefully neutral, but Mingyu can see the way her fingers curl at the disrespect. “Thank you for your time, officer. Junhui can show you out.”

She waves at Junhui, another one of their guards, and the man steps forward, smiling at Jieun sheepishly. “Right this way Jieun-ssi.” It takes a minute for the sound of their conversation to fade into the distance, Junhui’s voice determinedly upbeat, Jieun warming up the farther they get from the living room.

When they’re gone, Minghao relaxes, just a little bit. It's just her, Seokmin, and Mingyu left in the room. Even Seungcheol had gone off to talk to the guards outside. “I thought they’d never leave.”

“More like they couldn’t get out of here fast enough.” Mingyu returns.

Both are true. Mingyu hates the stares they get―as if the household was a display put on by the local zoo―but she would have endured them a little while longer if she thought the police were going to be at all useful.

It’s a moot point. Even for Xu Minghao herself, there is no way to force respect.

From the couch, Seokmin yawns, fangs briefly peeking out from behind her lips. There are bandages wrapped up her arms, hiding the morning’s burns. “In any case, what’s done is done. They probably won’t be back until the wedding is over.”

“Speaking of the wedding.” Mingyu says, eyeing the two of them. “Did Seungcheol say if he was going to change our security for it?"

Minghao pauses and looks at Seokmin. Looks at Mingyu. "He did actually. I'm not sure if you're going to like it."

"What is it?" Mingyu returns. She also looks at Seokmin, who ducks her head at the attention, one hand smoothing down her sleeve. 

Minghao is still looking at Seokmin. "Seungcheol is still working out the details, but you're going to be officially transferred to guarding Seokmin instead of me."

Mingyu can't quite help her instinctive response. "What? But I'm– I'm supposed to be guarding you." She's been doing it for eight years now, signed on as soon as she could. Guarding Minghao is just… what she does. Who else will keep her safe if Mingyu is not around?

(Mingyu ignores the years that Minghao spent growing up alone, and the year she spent in China after being turned—the year they were apart. Who knows what could have happened then?)

“I know.” Minghao sends her a look, one that hits the back of Mingyu’s ribcage, makes her close her mouth around anything else she was going to say. “I _know._ ” she repeats, stepping forward until their shoulders brush. “There’s no one in the guard I trust more than you, though. You’re the best person to protect Seokmin.” She says something else after that, something about how the unpredictability would throw the attackers off, but Mingyu is still stuck on Minghao’s lips wrapped around " _no one in the guard I trust more than you_ ".

Mingyu tears her eyes away from Minghao's face to look at Seokmin. There's something that Mingyu can’t read in her expression, and it makes her pause before speaking again. "Only for the wedding."

Seokmin nods at her. "Only for the wedding."

Minghao curls her fingers into the cuff of Mingyu's suit jacket, and tugs a little, moving Mingyu in Seokmin's direction. Mingyu goes easily, lets herself be led, and Minghao echoes, “Only for the wedding. Think of it like an extended bachelorette party.”

Mingyu chokes on a laugh. “Those aren’t even remotely the same, Hao.”

Minghao shrugs, her normal languid grace set down for something a little nervous, a little uncertain. “What do you want me to say then? You’re a wedding present?”

It might almost be preferable, Mingyu thinks. Better than what she has now, certainly. To be called a gift is to be carefully chosen and presented, to be wanted and held close to hand. And maybe it’s the fact that Seokmin almost _died_ that loosens her tongue, makes her voice the thought aloud. “Sure, a wedding present then. I’ll make sure you’re around to open the rest of them.”

Seokmin looks at her, gaze searching in a way that Mingyu can’t quite understand, and smiles. Her expression is like star, bright but distant, its warmth just out of Mingyu's reach. _Strange_ , Mingyu thinks, _that sunlight could hurt someone who shines so bright._ “I’ll be in your care, then," Seokmin says.

And that’s that.

* * *

The summer that Minghao is nineteen, she leaves the academy to visit her parents, and never returns. Their steady stream of WeChat messages halts abruptly one day, and Mingyu is left a country away, wondering what went wrong.

When Minghao doesn’t contact her for a week, Mingyu thinks she’s done something to offend her, and spends a lot of time wondering what she said.

When Minghao doesn’t contact her for two weeks, Mingyu has already started calling people. Minghao doesn’t pick up her phone, and none of their mutual friends know what happened to her. What she finds instead is a small article in Mandarin, published a week after Minghao stopped responding to messages. **_Ambassador’s Daughter Attacked in the Street!_ ** The magazine it was run in is distressingly light on both details and credibility, but still, Mingyu worries.

When Minghao doesn’t contact her for three weeks, Mingyu makes plans to confront the headmaster of the school. The staff in his office have started to hang up on her automatically by now, a swift click her only answer to, “Sorry to be calling again, but about Xu Minghao-”

It is unbecoming for a daughter of the most prominent body guarding family in Korea to beg for information, but she has long since disregarded propriety for Minghao.

She chooses a day when she knows the headmaster doesn’t have any appointments, and simply walks in. There’s a trick to these kinds of things, of looking like she has a purpose when entering places she’s not allowed in: simply act like she belongs and eyes slip right over her. No one tries to stop her until she’s halfway to the door, and by then it’s too late.

The office staff try and catch her arm, but Mingyu has been training in martial arts for more than half her life now; it’s easy to evade their hands and slip into the office, stopping before the headmaster with her mouth half open already.

One of the secretaries steps up beside her. “I’m so sorry for this, sir. She got in here before we could stop her. We’ll be out of your hair in a moment.” He tugs on her sleeve, as if the gesture will get Mingyu to move.

The headmaster raises his head, a surprised frown on his lips. “Don’t worry about it, Kihyun-ssi. I don’t have any appointments today, I can hear her out.”

Kihyun releases Mingyu’s arm with a short nod, stepping back. “If you say so sir. I will leave you to it.”

The headmaster waits until Kihyun is out of the room, before turning to Mingyu. “Why don’t you take a seat?” Mingyu looks at the heavy seats in front of the desk, dark leather and oak, and sits slowly. “Very good. Now what did you want to talk about with me today?”

Mingyu digs her teeth into her lip. “I’ve been trying to get in contact with one of the students who was here last year. I don’t think she’s withdrawn, but I can’t contact her, and I’m worried. Even just whether she’s ok―”

The headmaster raises a slow hand. “Don’t worry, I understand. What’s her name? I cannot provide you any details of course, but I can certainly tell you whether she is doing ok or not.”

Mingyu’s eyes water unexpectedly, and she ducks her head, swiping at the tears before they can fall. “Thank you.” She looks up at him, a smile trying to work itself through her serious mask. “Her name is Xu Minghao.”

And just for a second, Mingyu sees something in the headmaster’s face _twist._ It’s subtle, and she would have missed it if she hadn’t been looking straight at him, but having seen it, the emotion is unmistakable.

Disgust.

Within a second his mouth smooths itself out, and he looks almost normal again, but Mingyu knows what she saw. The headmaster clears his throat, and turns to the computer on his desk. “Well, let me look her up.” He tapes the keyboard for a few seconds, and turns back to Mingyu politely. "Her parents took her home," he says. "I can't tell you anything other than that."

That's fine. Mingyu doesn't really need more than that anyway. Minghao’s parents took her home, which means she’s still alive. That’s enough. Mingyu will find a way to contact her, and in the meantime, she will wait for her return.

She stands, dipping a respectful nod in the headmaster’s direction. “Thank you very much for your help today, sir, and for indulging my hasty imposition.” The headmaster nods, and says something Mingyu isn’t really listening to. She leaves.

* * *

An hour later, Mingyu is part of the team that helps search Seokmin’s bedroom for any more bombs. They don’t find anything, but Seokmin stays in the doorway, hands gripping the doorframe.

She would have almost preferred for them to find another bomb, rather than leaving her with uncertainty. If they found something, at least she could rest easy, knowing that the danger was passed for now. This―the fear within her own bedroom, the lingering flash of sunlight behind her eyelids, like the afterimage of death―sets her on edge.

Her arms ache.

She doesn’t want to feel like this, two days from her wedding, but― She just can't relax. Every time she tries, something will glint in the corner of her eye, and she'll flinch, ready for immolation. It doesn't help that she's tired. Normally Seokmin would be asleep by now; the sun is well into the sky.

It was easier to relax when Minghao was here, but she's back out to finish her meetings, the last of them before the wedding. A lot of things are easier with Minghao beside her.

The minute Minghao had stepped into the living room, she had swept her into a hug, the feeling of home so strong that Seokmin had nearly melted into the floor.

“You’re _ok._ ” Minghao had said, kissing her fiercely. And with Minghao’s arms around her shoulders, and Seungcheol and Hansol in the room, it was easy to believe. Here and now though―the doorframe creaks beneath her fingers.

"I just want to feel safe,” Seokmin had said into the warmth of Minghao’s mouth before they parted. And Minghao had given her a look, had given her another kiss, had given her Mingyu. Seokmin’s not quite sure how to feel about the last one.

Seokmin knows the two of them have a history, can see it in every glance that Mingyu sends their way. In a way, she nearly feels bad for her. Mingyu is obvious in her longing; if the three of them were art pieces, Mingyu would be not so much a sculpture as a fountain, constantly spilling over her feelings.

Seokmin can emphasize, she’s the same way, after all.

There are a thousand differences between them, but the way that Minghao has their hearts in her palm is a point of connection. That emotion is the mirror she looks into every day they spend together, staring at each other from across Minghao’s shoulders.

Minghao is never so relaxed as when she has Mingyu by her side. And if there is anything Seokmin is jealous of in the whole arrangement, it’s the effortless way the two of them understand each other, the product of years spent at each other’s sides.

It’s the years, not the love, that makes her long. How could she be jealous of Minghao’s love when she has it for herself already?

It doesn’t take much longer for the inspection to finish. As Seokmin watches, the various members of her guard file out of the room, all except Mingyu, who walks over to her side. Seokmin sees where she’s looking―the doorframe is in danger of acquiring dents―and slowly unclenches her fingers.

Mingyu's gaze is warm, alight with the same intensity she uses to look at Minghao. "How are you doing?" Mingyu asks.

There are a lot of answers to that question, and Seokmin isn’t sure she wants to voice any of them. What she says is, “I’m doing ok.” The words are only a little hollow.

Maybe Mingyu can hear that, because she tilts her head and takes Seokmin’s hand, a little uncertain, like she’s not sure if Seokmin will allow it. “It’s ok if you’re not, you know.”

“I know.” Seokmin smiles, and while it’s not as wide as it could be, the expression isn’t a strain either. Sometimes she forgets, for all the years she has spent with Minghao, Mingyu has been there as well. Of course she’s able to see straight through her.

That knowledge works in reverse, as well. “I trust you to keep me safe.”

Mingyu flushes, faintly pink over her cheekbones, and her eyes are steady when she looks at her. “Sleep, Seokmin. I’ll watch the door.”

“Good morning, then. Wake me when Minghao gets back?”

“Sure.” Mingyu moves to step out of the room, and Seokmin catches her arm.

“Could you― Could you stay a little longer? Just until I fall asleep.”

Seokmin is looking down, so she can’t see Mingyu’s expression, but she can hear her pulse jump a couple of beats before settling down. “Of course,” Mingyu says, pulling up a chair next to the bedside as Seokmin gets under the covers.

And there, with Mingyu’s heartbeat in her ears, and the sound of her breathing nearby, Seokmin finally falls asleep. She doesn’t dream.

* * *

Minghao comes back from China twenty years old and different. Mingyu’s not talking about her new haircut, or the way she’s never seen outdoors anymore. No, she's talking about the fact that Minghao won’t even look at Mingyu, and rumors say that she’ll only be here for a week before returning home.

For the first time since she left last summer, Minghao is within reach but Mingyu can’t _talk_ to her. Minghao is smoke between her fingers, slipping out of reach every time Mingyu tries to get close.

Mingyu sees her in classrooms, lunchrooms, even in the library, but never close enough to even call out to. It’s enough to make he want to rip her hair out. Clearly, Minghao doesn’t want to talk to her, but Mingyu doesn’t know _why_. Minghao might not want to explain, but unfortunately for her, once Mingyu has got something between her teeth, she has a hard time letting go.

Finally, the day Minghao is scheduled to leave, Mingyu manages to find her in her dorm room. All of her bags have been packed already, and the room is empty. The space is oppressively clean, the walls where Minghao’s various posters and decorations used to hang now blank and empty.

Minghao is picking up her last bag, when Mingyu runs into the room, breathless. (Only later would she find out that Minghao had heard her coming and had allowed herself to be caught.)

In the heat of the moment, though, Mingyu doesn’t stop to think before blurting out, “Where are you going?”

Minghao pauses and looks at her. The sun has long since set outside, but the lights in the room still make her glow, a little sickly but alive. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now. I’m going home.” She doesn’t offer any more explanation.

“Why?” Mingyu takes a step forward, notes the way that Minghao leans forward as well, as if drawn by an invisible force. “What happened, are you ok? Are you coming back?”

Minghao’s lips twist, and Mingyu can almost see her say something else―she doesn’t know what―before she picks up her bag and puts it on her back.

The opportunity to get an explanation is slipping away right before Mingyu’s eyes, and she can’t bear that, so she grabs onto Minghao’s wrist, pulling them closer. There’s something strange about the feeling of Minghao’s skin beneath her fingertips, a little too cool to be normal, but she holds on as tight as she can. (Later too, she will realize that Minghao must have allowed this, allowed Mingyu to pull her closer, and the thought will sit with her for months.)

“Please don’t go without explaining, Minghao.” Mingyu pours herself into those words, searching Minghao’s face for some kind of understanding. “I won’t stop looking if you don’t.”

Minghao shakes her head, chin tipped down, and Mingyu brings her other hand to Minghao’s jaw, gently pushing it back up. “Minghao, please.” Their eyes meet, but Mingyu can’t see _anything_ in them. “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

“What if you won’t want to?” Minghao asks.

“Then that’s my decision to make.”

Minghao bites her lip and seems to come to a decision. Even as she opens her mouth to speak though, Mingyu has some idea of what she’s going to say. The teeth digging into her lip are _fangs._

“Fine. When I got back to Anshan last year, I was―” She bites her lip again, blood beading up. “Let’s say I was turned. I don’t know why it happened, but I can’t be here anymore. I'm going back to China. I'm going home.”

Mingyu wants to close her eyes, but doesn't. She doesn’t want to miss anything Minghao has to say―with words or without. “But why did you stop talking to me?”

Minghao’s hands come up to wrap around Mingyu’s wrists, shaking off the hand Mingyu had on her easily. “I just told you.” Her voice crackles with static. “Do you know how much the Kim family name is worth? Does that mean nothing to you? Besides, do you think we can afford,” she waves a hand between them, “this? When I am what I am now?”

The words are cruel, designed to wound, and Mingyu bares her teeth right back. “You don’t get to say that to me, Xu Minghao.” Her name is perfectly pronounced in her mouth, thrown like a javelin. “You stopped talking to me without so much as a goodbye text, what the hell was I supposed to think? I was worried about you. Don’t just―”

“What?” Minghao interrupts her, and pulls Mingyu closer until they’re practically nose to nose. “Break up with you? If you won’t do it, I will. Kim Mingyu I am―”

Mingyu slaps a hand over her mouth. It might be her imagination, but she thinks she can feel Minghao’s fangs against her palm. “You can’t protect me by breaking up with me! You don’t get to decide that for me, for us.”

“Don’t I?” Minghao asks, moving her hand as easily as if she were brushing aside a stray leaf. Something in Mingyu’s chest is twisting, sinking into itself. She has always been the stronger one of the two of them, before this. “I’m going to go back to Anshan, and you can’t stop me. You don’t want to stop me.”

Mingyu isn’t someone prone to pausing in the midst of arguments, and now is no exception. The words spill out of her, entirely on instinct. “I refuse to be afraid of you!”

Minghao looks like she’s been slapped. Before she has time to reply though, there’s a knock at the doorframe. The dorm monitor pokes her head into the room, glasses sliding down her nose. “Is everything ok in here?”

“Just fine,” Minghao says, stepping back from Mingyu.

Mingyu feels the distance like a wound. “We’re fine, thank you.”

The dorm monitor clicks her tongue. “Well, keep it down then. I know one of you is leaving, so I won’t write you up, but quiet hours started an hour ago and you need to respect them.”

Slowly, Mingyu becomes aware of the fact that they’d been shouting, loud enough to leave her ears ringing. Faintly, she says, “Of course. Sorry to disturb you, Euna-ssi.”

“Not a problem,” Euna says, and steps back out of the door. Mingyu takes a deep breath, and it feels like coming up for air.

When she turns back to Minghao, the other girl is staring at her. There are tears in her eyes. Mingyu’s thoughts tumble to a halt. “Minghao? What’s wrong?”

Minghao throws a fist at her, hitting Mingyu’s shoulder weakly. “You can’t just say things like that."

“Like what?” Mingyu wraps a loose hand around the fist Minghao still has pressed to her shoulder. And then, a little defensive, “I haven’t said anything that wasn’t true.”

“That’s the problem.”

Mingyu drops her hand, and steps forward, knocks her forehead against Minghao’s. She doesn’t coddle the truth. Minghao wouldn’t appreciate it. “Then make it not a problem. You’re one of the smartest people I know, Minghao. Figure it out.”

“I can’t―”

“You can.” It’s hard to see any of Minghao’s facial expression this close up, but she tries anyway.

“I had thought…” Minghao trails off, tentative as she so rarely is, and Mingyu waits it out this time, gives her space. “I had thought you wouldn’t want to come with me, once you figured out what I became. What I am.”

“Wanting you has never been the problem,” Mingyu returns. “This doesn’t change anything. Give me a chance, Minghao.”

“I don’t think it’s the chance you’re looking for.” Minghao takes a deep breath. If anything she simply looks resigned now, all the fight drained out of her. “It’s not just about me. There’s been talk of— my parents aren’t stupid. They know what kind of opportunity this could be. We don’t know who was behind the attack, but there needs to be more communication between vampires and humans. I could be the start of it.”

“As a liaison?” Mingyu asks, even as she says it though, she knows that’s not what Minghao is referring to.

“As an ambassador,” Minghao replies, and every generation of her family’s history is behind that word.

Mingyu can feel suprise on her face, knows she must look stupid with it. “Haven’t you always wanted to become an ambassador? The circumstances are… is that why you’re upset?”

Minghao takes a step back. “No. It’s― the covens are asking for my hand, a permanent tie between me and their interests. I wouldn’t be able to marry a human. I wouldn't be able to be with you anymore.”

“I don’t understand.” The words are ashy in Mingyu’s mouth, partially a lie. It isn’t that she doesn’t understand so much as she doesn’t want to understand. 

“If you don’t figure it out now, you will soon,” Minghao says, walking towards the door.

“I’m still going to go after you,” Mingyu returns. She doesn’t move, and she doesn’t look away.

“I-” Minghao says, pausing for a moment in the doorway, hesitation in every line of her body. “I’ll see you later, Mingyu.” She blurs. Mingyu feels the faintest pressure on her lips, a breeze that smells like Minghao’s favorite conditioner, and she’s gone.

Mingyu isn’t going to let her vanish again.

* * *

Before Seungcheol leaves for the morning, Mingyu catches his arm. Seokmin is asleep in the upstairs room, and the sun is rising. She has a couple hours to grab a nap before Minghao comes back and she has to wake Seokmin. “Is everything ok?”

It’s mostly a rhetorical question, but Seungcheol still gives her a searching look before saying, “You know the answer to that, Mingyu.”

Mingyu sighs. “Ok, is there anything I can do?”

The look Seungcheol gives her is a little more approving this time, but still not entirely satisfied. “Minghao told you about your new assignment?” Mingyu gives him an unsettled look, and he huffs a laugh. “You look lost, it’s not that hard to figure out. She probably didn’t tell you it was her idea in the first place, did she?”

“No, she didn’t.” Mingyu can feel as her face twists, probably into something horribly revealing. It was just like Minghao to try and arrange things like that, and the worst thing is that Mingyu can’t even be mad at her for it. She can see the line of reasoning, and, well. It’s Seokmin. That alone would be enough if it wasn’t Minghao she was being reassigned from. “It’s fine though. Seokmin is upstairs, and safe. Her guard is going to cover for me as I try to get onto her sleep schedule.”

“That’s pretty much it,” Seungcheol says. “Most of the preparations are already done, and once we rearrange Minghao’s guard, the rest of them can stay the same.” 

“What about the venues?” 

Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair. “Ideally, we’d be able to change them, but since it’s so last minute neither of them can be rebooked. We’ve already built our security plans around these places, so as it is, we’ll just have to improve them as much as we can.”

Mingyu makes a noise of discontent and Seungcheol continues, mouth a sympathetic line. “And you’ll be in the wedding party of course, for the ceremony. We’ll equip you with a sunshield if worst comes to worst, but I’m more worried about the reception.”

“Oh,” says Mingyu, softly. “I had thought you would keep me on guard, not…”

Seungcheol’s smile is so understanding that it makes Mingyu shrink two inches. “I wouldn’t take you away from that moment, Mingyu. Enjoy it. You all will be safe, I promise.”

Mingyu nods. “Thank you, Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol waves her off with a hand, turning away to his schedule. “No problem, take care of yourself, ok?”

“Don’t you mean take care of Seokmin?” Mingyu asks, already walking back towards the room Seokmin is sleeping in. 

“I mean you.” She only just manages to catch the last of Seungcheol's words as she rounds the door, but they sound like, “You need it.”

* * *

The thing is, Mingyu has always known she would be a bodyguard. Her mother is a bodyguard, as was her father before her, and his father before him. It’s in her blood.

The Kims guard the most important personal and political figures in Korea, and sometimes beyond. Mingyu has cousins who can’t talk about what they do at the yearly family gatherings, simply because only half the people in the room have the security clearance.

So when Mingyu is sent off to school at the age of thirteen, it is not entirely because she cannot defend herself yet. It is because she is being introduced to the most important names of her generation, expected to pick one of them to tie herself to when she comes of age.

For most of the year, it goes well. She meets new friends and joins as many sports teams as she can. Even this young, she is looking for someone to tie herself to. In some ways, it is the most important decision she’ll ever make in her life.

(Sometimes she wonders about the wisdom of trusting a thirteen year old with a choice like that, but well. It's hard to argue with tradition.)

No one stands out, though. No one until Minghao.

By the time she’s seventeen, Mingyu has figured out who she wants to be her charge. She holds off on telling Minghao, though. She has time.

* * *

Mingyu has twelve years of training in mixed martial arts, a lifetime of home tutoring in security systems, and the absolutely bloody desire for Minghao to be safe. She has completely upended her life to apply to be Minghao’s bodyguard. She is the most qualified candidate by far.

This is not enough for Minghao’s mother.

“She is my only daughter,” Mrs. Xu says, staring her down. They are in a small receiving room, one normally reserved for state officials. The furniture is warmly neutral, half a dozen painting from local artists mounted on the walls. There is tea steaming on the table between them, but neither one of them has touched the cups. “Why are you here, Kim Mingyu?”

Mingyu had told her already; she is applying to be Minghao’s bodyguard.

But that’s not what Mrs. Xu is asking, and so Mingyu says, “I’m here because Minghao is the best person I’ve ever met. She deserves the best security she can get, which is me.” It's not arrogance if it's true. 

Mrs. Xu flattens her mouth, a gesture Mingyu has seen on Minghao a thousand times before. Internally, she winces. Minghao never says anything less than razor-edged when she looks like that. She can’t imagine her mother will be any different. “Is that all? There are many good people in the world. Why Minghao specifically?”

She doesn’t question Mingyu’s competence though, which is the first bit of hope that Mingyu has gotten since starting this conversation. “Because Minghao is…” _brilliant, unexpectedly kind, generous with her trust, worth it,_ “going to change the world.”

Mrs. Xu takes a deep breath and blows it out. “I understand. If you have made up your mind, you may return here tomorrow to sign the paperwork. However,” she narrows her eyes, “do not forget yourself. Minghao is in the most precarious position of her life, as are the covens. One _misstep_ could be her undoing while we finalize her engagement. If you do not understand that, then do not bother returning.” She says _misstep_ the same way most people say _relationship,_ say _girlfriend._

With that parting blow, she stands. Leveling one last look in Mingyu’s direction she says, “I will see you―or not―tomorrow, Kim Mingyu. Have a good day.”

The next day, Mingyu is waiting at her doorstep.

* * *

Mingyu wakes her a couple of hours later as promised, so Seokmin is conscious to see Minghao slip into her bedroom, taking her hair down from its bobby pins and hair ties. Mingyu had stepped outside when Minghao arrived.

Minghao stops when she sees Seokmin awake, laying the pins on the bedside table. Seokmin can still feel sleep dragging at her eyelids, the sun still in the sky. Rolling over in bed, she holds out her arms, gesturing Minghao closer. “You’re back.”

“I am.” Minghao agrees, sitting on the bed, both hands pulling her hair back in a loose braid. Her voice is fond when she asks, “What are you doing up?”

Seokmin yawns. “I asked Mingyu to wake me.”

Minghao’s eyes are dark and lovely as she looks at her, and when she finishes tying back her hair, Seokmin wastes no time in pulling her close, pressing a kiss to her lips before burying her face in her neck. Minghao’s pulse is slow and she smells like copper and a hint one of her perfumes. When she speaks, it’s a low whisper. “Are you doing ok together?”

The perfume is a little musky in her nose, and Seokmin sighs, one hand coming up to rest on Minghao’s back. “I’m safe, aein.”

Minghao slips all the way underneath the blankets, scooting them until they’re both covered. “Dodging the question,” she says, but her voice isn’t worried.

Seokmin hums. “We’ll be ok. Mingyu and I have figured this one out.”

A yawn splits Minghao’s face, and she snuggles closer to Seokmin, hand resting over her slow beating heart. “Just stay alive, xingan.”

“Of course.”

* * *

The day after Mingyu signs the papers, she finds Minghao again. They meet in Minghao’s childhood bedroom, now officially bodyguard and client.

Minghao’s mother’s words are bells, ringing in Mingyu’s ears. So, when Minghao takes her hand and pushes her away after Mingyu kisses her hello, Mingyu can read between the lines. Minghao is a pane of glass like this, an openness that wounds, so fragile it is its own shield.

Mingyu steps back. The distance doesn’t seem to bring Minghao any comfort.

“Ah. Don’t worry, Hao. I know how to behave.”

Minghao’s face grows briefly pinched. “You know, then.”

_Whispers about vampires in shadowed corners. The headmaster’s contempt. Minghao’s mother, staring her down._

“Yeah. I know.”

Minghao doesn’t smile, but her hands twitch like she wants to reach out and touch her. “I’m glad you’re here. I promise, I won’t go anywhere this time.”

Mingyu smiles for her, even if it feels tight. Though her belongings are in the room next door, though she is here because Minghao had all but asked her to come, she has never felt so far away.

* * *

That evening, Seokmin wakes as the sun sets. Minghao is a cool weight by her side, and just for a moment Seokmin lets herself indulge in the sweetness of it. Minghao has been away from the house more often than not these past few weeks—arranging the wedding is at least 75% political maneuvering—and Seokmin has missed her. 

Seokmin has preparations she should be making too, placating calls to make to her coven’s leader, double checking the massive guest list, but she doesn’t want to move. It’s been so long since she’s had a moment like this, languid as slow water. 

Outside the door, she can almost hear Mingyu, some combination of heightened senses paired with an unnameable instinct placing her at the threshold. Seokmin relaxes into that knowledge, closing her eyes again.

Her duties will wait just a bit longer. Right now, Seokmin is safe. She falls back asleep like that, in a room of velvet shadows, the night brushing fingers over the sky, listening to her most familiar sounds.

* * *

Mingyu remembers exactly where she was when she knew Minghao was to be married. It was ten feet to her right, carefully ignoring Seokmin crying. Minghao down on one knee, ring in hand, facing Seokmin like she was looking at the sun. Seokmin had practically tripped over herself in accepting Minghao's proposal, words coming out in one long tangled rush. They all boiled down to one, though.

 _Yes_.

Mingyu had been watching the hallways of Seokmin's favorite art gallery. It was the same gallery that Minghao and Seokmin's first date had been in. Of course Minghao had proposed there. She was a romantic like that. There had been no question that they were going to be married—it was a decision they made together months ago, approved by the covens years before that—but Minghao still asked. She was a romantic like that, too.

(Minghao had taken Mingyu to this art gallery, once. They had looked at the artwork for hours, before Mingyu pulled her into a secluded corner. They had made out until Mingyu was breathing hard, and Minghao had looked lovelier than any of the artwork around them, expression dripping satisfaction.

Of course, that had been years ago. Mingyu isn't sure why she had thought it should have mattered.

More than six years before that proposal, Mingyu had had dreams of her own, of dropping to one knee in front of Minghao and asking her to stay forever. It didn't take long for that dream to shatter.

Mingyu _does_ have forever now, just at a distance. It’s a museum's intimacy, always three feet away from the artwork, breath fogging the glass display case. Look but don’t touch.)

There’s something else about the memory that has always sat a little oddly, though. Mingyu remembers exactly where she was when Minghao proposed to Seokmin, but she also remembers what happened a minute after.

Seokmin’s sniffles hadn’t died down, and the crowds had begun to stare, so Minghao had turned, beckoning Mingyu closer. With a gentle hand, she had pulled Mingyu in front of the two of them, hiding Seokmin from sight.

Seokmin had tucked her face into Mingyu’s back, tears of joy soaking into Mingyu’s suit jacket. Very quietly, muffled into the linen, she said, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Mingyu replied. She didn’t say _anything for the two of you._ Some truths were too fragile to put into words.

* * *

Minghao wakes in her bedroom an hour after sunset. Seokmin had rolled over sometime during the day, and her arm is resting on her stomach. Her muscles are pleasantly stiff, the kind of rested that only comes from sleeping longer than she should.

By her side, Seokmin stirs as Minghao slips out of the bed. She stretches lazily, staring out their window to the city beyond. Seoul is beautiful in the evenings, and the sky has darkened to a muted gray, stars washed out by the lights above. It’s time to get to work.

But first—she looks at Seokmin, currently making vaguely awake noises from beneath the covers—breakfast.

By the time they get downstairs, Mingyu is waiting for them, eyebrows pushed together as she mixes drinks. The rest of breakfast is already prepared, probably by their chef, but Mingyu has always liked to do the drinks personally.

The ones she’s making now smells vaguely fruity, grapefruit and something green blended together, all overlaid with the tang of blood. Seokmin swoops in to grab hers with a smile, and Minghao follows a second behind, with a nod of thanks. “Good evening.”

“You’re up early,” Mingyu returns, grabbing the last glass—the one without blood. She smiles absentmindedly in Minghao’s direction, walking to the breakfast table. Minghao isn’t sure Mingyu’s aware of the expression, which tilts her eyes up at fond angles—unconscious but still arresting.

Minghao shakes it off and sits down. “We’ve got a lot to do.”

By her side, Seokmin takes a deep breath and a sip of her drink. Her plate already has a pile of fruit on it, and her eyes are determined. “That’s right. I need to call the covens. If there’s the risk of sunbombs being thrown around, they need to know.”

Minghao, who had been considering calls of her own, nods. “Seungcheol has managed to keep the news relatively quiet, but I need to talk to the rest of our guest list soon. We can control the story, if nothing else.”

Seokmin nods back, and if it’s a little shakier than it would have been a day ago, no one at the table mentions it. “I’ve already got a list of people, I just need to start calling.”

Mingyu watches them both, eyes steady, hands wrapped around her glass. “Let’s get started, then.”

The rest of the morning is a whirlwind of activity, Seokmin’s phone going off every fifteen minutes as the news spread among the vampire covens of Seoul, every leader who was invested in her marriage calling to reassure themselves of her safety.

Minghao watches her field questions from across the room, busy with calls of her own. It seems like every government official ever elected wants to know who had tried to kill Seokmin, and what could be done to stop it. They want reassurances Minghao can't give, about the attackers, about their own safety at the wedding.

Minghao spends the evening talking down half of their guest list from cancelling attendance at the wedding tomorrow, assuring them that yes, she does have this under control and that yes, they will find who did this. It’s an exhausting way to start the day. 

* * *

Minghao falls in love for the second time when she is twenty-two. Mingyu is by her side of course, and sees it happen first, probably even before Minghao herself does. It's not hard to spot, Mingyu thinks. She knows what Minghao looks like in love from the inside.

Seokmin is beautiful and charming and the daughter of the most highly respected coven leader in Seoul. She makes Minghao laugh, the brightest sound in the whole sky, and was born into politics. It is no wonder that she is the one that is chosen to be engaged to Minghao.

They are introduced at the President's birthday party, a cautious interest flowering between dances, between sidelong glances. Neither of them ask each other to stay, but Seokmin mentions that she’ll be visiting Naksan Park the next day. Mingyu is only a little surprised when Minghao rearranges her entire day to be there.

It would be easier, Mingyu thinks, if she could hate Seokmin. If she could only see her as the offering of the faceless covens of Seoul, as a wedge between her and Minghao, but she can’t. Seokmin is kind and self-effacing, and the first time they are introduced, Seokmin smiles at her so shyly that feels Mingyu awful for trying to hate her.

Seokmin volunteers in her free time, and has a cat so old it wheezes instead of meows. The covens couldn’t have chosen someone better to marry Minghao, and Mingyu is glad and resentful in equal measures.

Still, it’s not an easy engagement. Not for either of them. Minghao is alternatively too attentive and too cold in turn, swinging back and forth between extremes. Mingyu doesn’t know Seokmin, but there's a strange hesitance to her sometimes―like looking at a mirage, there and gone in the seconds it takes to smile. Sometimes Minghao pushes too much, and sometimes Seokmin clams into herself, leaving nothing behind but a frigid distance.

But somehow, they make it work. Like the steps of a dance they’re creating together, the two of them find each other every time. Mingyu follows behind them for all of it. She’s outside of apartments, inside tea shops, ten steps behind them in art galleries.

She’s there when Seokmin takes a year abroad to finish her degree in communication―her and Minghao video chatting nearly every day despite the difference in time zones. She’s there when Minghao is officially named ambassador to Seoul, a bridge between China and Korea, between humans and vampires. The three of them celebrate with drinks, and Mingyu is there to see Seokmin, cheeks flushed on a combination of soju and joy, tell Minghao that she’s the most beautiful person she’s ever met.

Mingyu, quite frankly, sometimes wishes that she wasn’t there. It makes it impossible for her heart to stitch itself back together, always reaching out for something just inches away.

On her days off, she spends a lot of time picking up strangers from dive bars, trying to ignore the fact that they all have dark hair and kind eyes.

* * *

It’s past midnight when Minghao finally looks up from her phone, her neck pinching with a phantom ache. She doesn’t hurt, not really, but sometimes the part of her that spent eighteen years as a human will tell her that she should be cramping from staying in one position for so long.

Across the room Seokmin is still taking a call and when Minghao catches her eye they make sympathetic expressions at each other. Seokmin gestures to the phone and shrugs, and Minghao nods, stretching in place. She didn’t know when the call would be done, then.

This is not how Minghao wanted to spend the day before their wedding (she had plans that involved Seokmin, a blindfold, and a room entirely to themselves) but it’s necessary. The wedding is the last confirmation of Minghao’s suitability to be an ambassador, to being a bridge between humans and vampires.

When she gets up from the couch, Mingyu is there. She offers a wine glass filled with blood and tips her head to the side. Minghao takes the glass with a sigh. It doesn’t take much to see that Mingyu is nervous, no matter how much she’s trying to hide it. The feeling is in every extra gesture that she makes, every glass of blood and the constant stream of snacks. Minghao has always looked to Mingyu’s actions to look into her heart.

The sight of her makes Minghao also think of the box in her and Seokmin’s bedroom, a whispered conversation. She had other plans for today, too. Ones that involved Mingyu and Seokmin and the promise she had made to Mingyu years ago. Later. They’ll have time for that later.

She takes a sip of her glass, rolling the mouthful of blood over her tongue. It tastes salty-sweet, like roasted fruit, warm in her veins.

Mingyu needs something to do, and so Minghao looks up, puts a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you make us something to eat?”

* * *

The thing is, Mingyu can't help but compare Seokmin to herself. She's pretty sure she's not imagining the reverse occurring either: Seokmin comparing herself to Mingyu.

It comes to a head a year in to Seokmin and Minghao’s relationship, on a day when Minghao is out on the town with Junhui. Mingyu is in the apartment kitchen, three blood pouches and all the ingredients to make a bloody mary on the countertop. Minghao was renting the place while she and Seokmin worked through their degree programs.

Seokmin walks in, sleep still caught around the corners of her eyes. Her head lifts, perhaps smelling the blood. “What are you doing?”

“Mixing drinks,” Mingyu replies. She takes a sip of the tomato juice and tilts her head, adding more salt.

“And you decided to start with bloody marys?” Seokmin hops up on the corner of the countertop, feet swinging in the space beneath her.

Mingyu twists her lips and opens one of the blood pouches, the sharp tang of iron hitting the air. Seokmin’s legs stop swinging. “It seemed fitting.”

The blood goes into a glass, along with the tomato juice mixture and a generous splash of vodka. Mingyu stirs it up before adding garnishes and slides the whole thing over to Seokmin. “Want to help me taste them?” She makes another for herself, minus the blood, and watches Seokmin pick up the drink slowly.

She takes a sip, and Mingyu watches her face, her own glass in hand. Seokmin’s face does something complicated at the taste, before she smiles at Mingyu and puts it down. It’s a calculated gesture. Mingyu frowns and asks, “Is it not good?”

This time, the face Seokmin makes is a little uncertain, a frown flickering across the curve of her lip before vanishing. “I couldn’t have done better.”

“Ah, thank you.” Mingyu trails off, storing the rest of the bloody mary mix for when Minghao and Junhui get home, gingerly putting the blood pouches back in their separate section of the fridge. She finishes up by tucking the rest of her ingredients away into their shelves. All the while, Seokmin watches her, an uncharacteristic silence hanging around her.

When Mingyu closes the fridge, Seokmin asks, “Is it the vampire thing?”

“What?” Mingyu turns around, eyebrows furrowed.

“Why you keep looking at me like that. I didn’t want to pry before, but it’s been a year and you’re still doing it.”

“What do you mean by “that”?” Mingyu asks, thinking back to their year together, of all the times she had been near the two of them. She had been looking, of course. “That’s my job?” she says, but it comes out as a question.

Seokmin picks her drink up again, twirling the little umbrella that Mingyu had stuck in the top of the glass. “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

Mingyu sighs through her nose, clutching her own drink to her chest. Suddenly, she wishes she had made it stronger. She does know. “It’s not the vampire thing. Or, not just the vampire thing.” Immediately, she wants to take the words back.

Like a reflex she can’t quite suppress, Mingyu sees Seokmin’s fangs briefly peek out from behind her lips. It’s a snarl, stopped before it can really begin. “I shouldn’t be surprised, and yet.”

“No! I don’t hate vampires, or whatever you’re thinking, Seokmin.” Mingyu closes her eyes. “It’s just… I don’t know.” Mingyu had her entire life planned out before she was eighteen, and while it didn’t all fall to pieces when Minghao was turned, it would have been a lot simpler if that hadn’t happened. Still, she adapted. It’s been two years since she started guarding Minghao for real. She would have preferred a different start, but there’s no changing it now. No, what’s tripping her up is, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you.”

Seokmin is sharp as ice when she looks at Mingyu. “Like I’m a person?”

Mingyu feels her brow scrunch. “Of course you’re a—I don’t mean it like that. I mean, I have no idea about vampire history or society or _anything_ and I’m supposed to be guarding one of its most important members. You make it seem so effortless, but I’m lost all the time.” She doesn’t say _it makes me feel useless._ That’s not something that needs to be said out loud.

“Oh,” says Seokmin, half to herself. “So that’s what― Why are you trying to figure it out by yourself?” When she slips off the countertop her feet are nearly soundless on the kitchen floor. Her smile borders between relieved and cautious. “I can teach you, all you had to do was ask.”

“Oh,” Mingyu breathes out.

Seokmin’s eyes are so _so_ warm. “Ask me, Kim Mingyu.”

Mingyu takes a deep breath. Squares her shoulders. “Lee Seokmin, will you teach me about vampires?”

“Of course.” Seokmin smiles brighter, and it’s like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. “Lesson one, don’t offer me any more bloody marys, tomato juice tastes like burning rubber.”

* * *

Minghao touches her shoulder gently and looks her in the eyes. "Why don't you make us something to eat?"

That's the thing about Minghao, something Mingyu is still stunned by even now, years and years into knowing her. When she looks at Mingyu, it feels like she's _seeing_ her, as if all of Mingyu's walls had never existed in the first place.

It's a heady thought.

It's dangerous, too. That much understanding, Mingyu thinks, could go to her head. In the moment though, she relaxes into the feeling. “Sure, any requests?”

“You know the kitchen the best, why don’t you decide?” Minghao’s hand runs down her arm to her wrist before she steps back. “Surprise us.”

Mingyu shivers, stepping back too. “Sure, but don’t blame me if it’s just bokkeumbap.”

"If you make it, I'm sure it will be good."

Mingyu shakes her head and heads into the kitchen to start cooking.

It doesn't take too long, and when she steps back out into the living room, Minghao is sitting next to Seokmin. They’re holding hands like an afterthought. An unconscious kind of intimacy, an assured closeness that strikes Mingyu between her third and fourth ribs. Seokmin is still on the phone. Her voice is cheerful but her shoulders are tense. 

Mingyu sets down the three bowls of bokkeumbap she’s carrying on the coffee table. Minghao lets go of Seokmin’s hand to take one, pushing another in the other woman’s direction. 

Seokmin gives her a distracted smile, still listening to whoever’s on the other end of the line. Her hand comes to rest on the bowl, and Mingyu looks away to see Minghao watching her. Mingyu laughs—a little quiet, a little nervous—and walks back to the door she’s guarding. It doesn’t take her out of sight of Minghao and Seokmin though, and when Minghao starts eating, something in Mingyu settles itself in satisfaction. 

There’s only so much she can do for them—which only makes the smaller gestures more worth it. If Mingyu can do anything to ease the weight they carry, she'll do it. The two of them deserve to be happy.

She settles by the door a little more firmly. It’s going to be a long night.

* * *

“This is probably lesson two,” Seokmin says a week later, a scroll bigger than her forearm open on the table.

Mingyu walks up to her side, peering over her shoulder. The scroll looks like a genealogy, names written in neat black ink. There are rows and rows of them, extending way back into the still-rolled section of the scroll. "What are you doing?"

"I'm recording the death of my great-uncle," Seokmin says. She doesn't sound too broken up about it, and Mingyu watches as she gets out a brush, and inks in a death date beneath one of the names on the scroll. Her hand is carefully steady, and the ink shimmers gold before drying.

Mingyu feels her eyebrow raise of its own accord. “This is Lesson Two?”

"Lesson two," Seokmin says, pointing to the birthdate, "is that we aren't actually immortal, no matter how some people like to pretend it's so."

Her finger is resting delicately on the year 1917. Mingyu starts. "I thought he was your great uncle? Shouldn't he be older?"

Seokmin sighs. “I’m not going to live longer than 95 at best, Mingyu. Old age still comes for us, if vampire hunters don’t get there first.”

Mingyu shivers, and steps a little closer, enough to feel the faint heat of Seokmin’s body. Vampire hunting had been outlawed over seventy years ago, but that didn’t stop people from trying to revive it. “You will. You’ll grow old, I’ll make sure of it.”

The look Seokmin sends her is gently skeptical. “You can try. That isn’t what I wanted you to notice, though. Pull up a chair, I’m going to show you how we track family lines.”

* * *

The next evening, three hours before the wedding is to start, Seokmin and Minghao find each other in the green room. Mingyu is with them of course, trailing behind Seokmin like a lost dog. Neither of the brides have had a chance to rest until now, and Seokmin sweeps Minghao up in an embrace the moment they’re in the same room, careful of her hair and makeup.

Minghao looks stunning, her hair twisted to the back of her head, pinned in place with pearls. She’s not wearing her dress yet, but her lips are ruby red, and her eyeliner is sharp enough to sew with.

Mingyu has been with Seokmin since the before the sun set, has seen her greeting the endless line of guests, both human and vampiric. Neither of the brides have had a chance to be alone together yet, though, and Mingyu briefly considers stepping out of the room to give them some privacy.

When Minghao draws back only far enough to kiss Seokmin, Mingyu decides that enough is enough and steps out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

The hallway outside is quiet, a relief from the evening’s noise. Hansol is already outside the door, giving her a wave when she steps out. Mingyu stations herself across from him, back to the door. The linen of her suit is nearly stifling against her skin. There’s a cool breeze flowing in from the open hallway windows, night falling quickly. The sun had set an hour or so ago, leaving the sky strangely formless, blue shadows and spilt ink.

There’s no one coming from either direction when she checks, and Mingyu gives herself time to breathe. Being around Seokmin all day has left her tense. Not because of Seokmin herself, but because of the circumstances they're both in.

Everyone involved in the wedding is nervous, but none so much as Seokmin. Even when she is smiling, thin lines of tension remain curled around her eyes, and her hands are never still. Mingyu can’t blame her, between the threat of assassination and the time counting down until the wedding, there are more reasons than not to be anxious.

Still, she wishes she could do something. All she can give is a solid presence at Seokmin’s back, and a cup of water whenever she has a moment to breathe. It doesn’t feel like enough. She’s glad Minghao is there now. Maybe she can offer some sort of ease. 

(And if part of her wishes that she was in there too, offering Seokmin what sort of comfort she could, well. Some things are always going to be out of reach.)

It seems like only a couple of minutes before the door behind her opens, Minghao walking over to tap her on the shoulder with a laugh. “You can come back in now.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “Done scarring the passerby?” By which Mingyu means herself. The joke is not as funny as it should be.

Minghao only smiles at her, slow and satisfied. “For now.” There’s still a faint tension in the set of her shoulders, but most of her is at ease. 

“Well, feel free to warn me next time,” Mingyu returns, checking the hallways once more. Hansol gives her a nod that she echoes before she walks inside.

The room is much the same as it had been when she left it, dark green walls and fresh flowers along the walls. The only difference is Seokmin. Mingyu forces herself not to stare as she steps over to the windows, checking outside for anything unusual before walking back.

Seokmin’s lipstick, which had been done neatly in red before Mingyu had left the room, is smeared and worn. Minghao’s lips are faintly the same color.

Minghao must see her glance—Mingyu isn’t being very subtle—and smiles smugly. “Should have gone with a lip stain, probably. At least that wouldn’t fade so easily.”

 _This was probably not what the makeup artist had in mind,_ Mingyu doesn’t say. Seokmin is the one who speaks up instead, running her thumb over her lower lip. In a strange echo of Mingyu’s thoughts, she says, “This is not what the makeup look was for.” When Mingyu accidentally catches her eyes, she doesn’t look away. “Thought I suppose it was put to good use.”

She looks more relaxed than she was before Minghao arrived, and Mingyu lets herself relax in turn, smiling softly. “Han Dong left the building a while ago, but I think I can find a similar shade to the one she was using before the ceremony starts.”

“No need,” says Minghao. From seemingly nowhere, she pulls out a tube of lipstick, a perfect match.

Internally, Mingyu rolls her eyes at Minghao’s dramatics. Fondly, of course. Externally, she tilts her head. “You don’t happen to have makeup wipes as well, do you?”

Minghao picks up a box of tissues lying on the table beside her and tosses it at Mingyu’s head. Mingyu catches it. “There you go, next question?”

“I’m good,” Mingyu says, turning to look at Seokmin. She’s watching the two of them with laughter in her eyes. It’s a good look, far better than the nerves of earlier.

Seokmin grins at her. “Worth it.”

Mingyu nearly laughs out loud, but resists. “Better get presentable before you go out and greet the Covens, then. They’re supposed to arrive in a few minutes.”

She’s about to step to the side of the rooms and give Seokmin the chance to fix her lipstick, when Minghao catches her eye. The tube of lipstick gets tossed at her head, and Mingyu has a split second to despair over Minghao’s method of handing things over before she's trying to catch it. She fumbles the box of tissues but manages to grab the lipstick. Minghao looks at her expectantly and sends a glance towards Seokmin. “Why don’t you fix it?”

“What? Me?” Mingyu freezes, confused. The way Minghao is looking at her almost seems like a test, like a message in a language Mingyu never learned how to speak.

She looks over at Seokmin, helplessly, only for Seokmin’s lips to catch her eyes once again. When she looks back up, Seokmin nods at her, head cocked expectantly. It’s enough for Mingyu to unfreeze herself, and bend down, picking up the tissue box. “Ok fine. Don’t blame me when I take off half your makeup by accident, though.”

“Somehow, that’s not what I’m worried about,” Seokmin says, so quietly that Mingyu isn’t sure she was meant to hear it. Uncapping the lipstick with a soft click, Mingyu walks over. She’s acutely of every inch of space between them, closing with every step she takes. “You good with this?” The words come out soft, but Mingyu has no doubt that Seokmin hears her just fine. Vampire ears, after all.

“I’m great,” Seokmin says, her voice cracking for a second. Mingyu pauses a step away to look at her, but she doesn’t take the words back. “I trust you, come on.”

And how can Mingyu resist that? She takes a breath and pulls out a tissue, leaning in close. Seokmin has always been a little shorter than her, and Mingyu has never been so aware of the difference as now. She has to bend down a little to fix the smudges around Seokmin’s bottom lip, bringing her nearly eye to eye with the other woman. 

Seokmin’s fangs are just visible between her lips, and Mingyu is careful not to get lipstick on them. She applies the new coat slowly, making sure not to miss anything, before leaning back. “How’s that?”

Seokmin rubs her lips together and grins. “It looks great!”

Mingyu swats her on the shoulder, all her tension releasing with a laugh. “You aren’t even looking in a mirror.”

Sometime while Mingyu wasn’t paying attention, Minghao had walked up behind her. When she speaks Mingyu jumps, turning to look over her shoulder. “It looks good.”

“Good then. I’m— Good.” When Mingyu moves to step away, Seokmin catches her arm.

“Wait.”

“What is it?” Mingyu turns her head and Seokmin lets go. 

“We have something to give you,” Seokmin blurts out, and she’s nearly vibrating. Mingyu’s not sure what they could have planned besides the wedding that would make her this nervous.

By her side, Minghao looks alarmed. “I thought we were waiting until after the banquet?”

Seokmin nods. “I just wanted to tell her now.” She glances at Mingyu again, and Mingyu is stunned by their closeness once more. Seokmin never ceases to be lovely, but sometimes it still sneaks up on her, hits her over the head with how gorgeous she is. The slope of her nose, the curve of her lips enough to make her breathless. It doesn’t help that Minghao’s hand is still at the small of her back, stopping her from stepping away.

“Do you have it?” Minghao asks. Her voice comes from just over Mingyu’s shoulder, far too close.

Between them, Mingyu feels like she’s being baked by the sun, enough attention to blind, to burn. It's too much all at once. She shakes it off, stepping to the side. Minghao lets her go easily, though Mingyu knows she could keep her there.

Strangely enough, the distance doesn’t afford her any relief. She looks at her watch to escape their gazes and interrupts whatever Seokmin is about to say. “It’s nearly 11. I’ll give you some more time before the ceremony starts.”

Seokmin opens her mouth, and closes it again. Finally she says, “Okay. We’ll see you after?”

Minghao is looking at her, eyes narrowed. Mingyu can read what she’s saying, and refuses to respond. “I’ll be right behind you both.”

When she steps out of the room again, it feels like running, though Mingyu has no idea from what.

* * *

Lessons with Seokmin often happen when Minghao is away, simply because of the way their schedules work out. Sometimes Minghao will sit in on them, and simply watch as Seokmin guides Mingyu into the vampire world. Other times, like today, she’s out of the apartment, and Seokmin takes the opportunity to spring them on Mingyu.

“Lesson six,” Seokmin says. She’s tipped upside down on the couch, eyes closed, hair spilled out over the floor. Mingyu is sitting on the floor by her head, fingers itching to touch the length of hair just inches away. She’s sitting on her hands to curb the impulse. “I suppose you could consider this first aid?”

“Call what first aid?” Mingyu asks, still looking at Seokmin’s hair.

“Blood drinking.” Seokmin throws the words out as if they don’t mean anything, but her eyes peek open a second later, as if to check Mingyu’s reaction.

Meanwhile, Mingyu is trying to remain still. Seokmin probably hears her heartbeat racing, but she refuses to let anything else show. A strange shivery warmth has overtaken her veins.

There aren’t a lot of _true_ stories about blood drinking available, and Mingyu had looked. There are quite a few tales of ritual sacrifice, more than the fair share of bodice ripper novels, and a plethora of urban legends, but nothing really covers the topic factually.

Seokmin has probably heard her fair share of those tales, because she rolls off the couch until she can rest her head on Mingyu’s lap and look up into her eyes. “What you’re thinking is probably half right.”

The words take Mingyu by surprise again, and she snorts. “What _am_ I thinking?”

“That blood drinking is some mystical process through which we gain power, or find human servants, or become one with the night.” Seokmin rolls her eyes, and Mingyu can’t help but laugh over the exaggerated disdain.

“I see you and Minghao drinking blood every other morning, I think the mystery has worn off.”

“Ah,” Seokmin says, “but always from blood pouches, right? Never from people.” Mingyu gives into temptation, and runs her fingers through Seokmin’s hair, brushing it away from her forehead and behind her ears. It’s a boundary she shouldn’t allow herself to break, but once she’s started, it’s hard to stop. Seokmin makes a happy noise and leans into the touch.

“Does it make a difference?” Mingyu asks.

“A big one,” Seokmin says, closing her eyes again at Mingyu’s ministrations. “It’s like… vending machine coffee compared to something brewed by hand in your favorite coffee shop. More than that, even. Fresh blood has energy in it, enough to bring a dying vampire back to life, or to heal an injury. If you get enough of it, it’s like the wound was never there in the first place so, hence, first aid.”

That would be incredibly useful if Minghao ever got injured. Or, Mingyu spares a look at the woman in her lap, if Seokmin did. Mingyu shakes off the though of those injuries before they can do much more than occur to her. No use in worrying over that right now. “Is that it? Any old blood will do?”

Seokmin blinks her eyes open to give Mingyu a _look._ “Vampire law might be different from yours, but it’s not _that_ different. Whoever we get the blood from needs to have agreed beforehand, and know the potential danger of losing too much. Ideally, it’d be at a hospital or something, but if it’s an emergency…”

“You are where you are,” Mingyu finishes. 

“Pretty much,” Seokmin says, snapping her fangs playfully in Mingyu’s direction. “Don’t worry too much about it. I’m told it doesn’t even hurt.”

Mingyu isn’t sure what hare-brained impulse makes her do it. Curiosity, maybe. When Seokmin stops talking though, she lifts the hand that had been threading through her hair, and presses it to the tip of one of her fangs, where it’s just peeking out between her lips. 

It’s hard and sharp, pricking against her finger like a needle. A second later, she realizes what she’s doing and jerks her hand away. “Sorry! I don’t know why I―”

"It's ok," Seokmin interrupts. "You're curious, right?' 

"Yeah." Seokmin's face has never seemed closer, and Mingyu can't look away from where her fangs are peeking out from between her teeth.

"Well, what did you think?"

"They're… sharp?"

At this Seokmin laughs. Mingyu frowns at her and Seokmin shakes her head. "Why don't you get a better look?" she says, baring a grin. 

Mingyu hesitates, and Seokmin raises an eyebrow. She looks like she's about to close her mouth when Mingyu takes a quick breath and presses a shaking fingertip to one of her fangs. It's slick from Seokmin's mouth, and slightly warm. The corner of Seokmin's upper lip brushes against Mingyu's fingertip, and she runs it around the edge of it, across to the one on the other side. Seokmin's breath puffs against her skin, and Mingyu draws back, whole body prickling. 

"They're dangerous." _and beautiful._

Seokmin laughs, a little self-deprecating. “I’m not that dangerous.”

That wasn’t what Mingyu meant, but she supposes Seokmin must know that, so she nods and changes the subject. “If we’re ever in a situation where you need to, you can bite me.”

Seokmin freezes, going still in Mingyu’s lap. “Are you sure about that?”

“Sure, it’s my job isn’t it?”

“Ah.” For some reason, Seokmin looks almost disappointed. 

Mingyu tries to reassure her, “I meant it, you know, when I said you’re going to grow old.”

Seokmin smiles at her, and it’s warm, but there’s a touch of something Mingyu can’t read in it as well. “Pay attention to my lessons then, and hope you’ll never need them.”

* * *

When Minghao steps into the wedding hall, all she can hear is her heartbeat. The wedding is almost entirely a political gesture, the guest list split evenly between family, politicians, and the most important vampires in the Northern Hemisphere. By her side, Seokmin is shaking, the same nervous energy from the morning rattling in her bones. Minghao can’t do anything but breathe in shakily, and hope that her nerves don’t show.

Technically, in the eyes of the law, Minghao is already married. She and Seokmin had gone to fill out the paperwork a week ago and said their vows with no one there to witness but their parents and Mingyu, who was watching the door. This ceremony is simply a confirmation of that gesture, making it plain for everyone to see.

That is all in the eyes of the human government though. According to vampire law, they have still yet to be wed.

That would be the political gesture.

Minghao has rehearsed most of this ceremony three times now, a careful blend of vampire and human customs designed to legitimize them in the eyes of both sides, but never before has it been in front of so many people. The audience changes things somehow, turns the careful steps she’s rehearsed with Seokmin into something greater than the sum of their parts.

As she walks to the front of the room, Minghao realizes she can hear another noise as well. It’s Seokmin’s heartbeat, running just as fast as her own. That is enough to get her to take a deep breath, holding it for a four count, and releasing. Everything will be fine. Seokmin is by her side. They’re facing this together, after all.

When they reach the front of the hall they turn together, bowing to the presented guests and to each other. They kneel facing each other, knees close enough to touch. To one side of them is a marriage officiant, to the other is the waiting crowd, both looking on expectantly.

By their knees are cups of rice wine in shallow bowls. Minghao turns and picks one up, handing it to Seokmin. It’s the start of the ceremony. She says, “Blood, so we may know it is true.” 

_We_ , as in _my family_ , as in _me_ , as in _whoever has come to witness us today_.

Seokmin takes the cup and responds, formal words light on her tongue. “Blood, so that I might know your heart.” _You do._ Minghao thinks. _You have my heart to do with as you please._

With one hand Seokmin holds the cup. With the other, she reaches out to grasp Minghao’s wrist, brings it to her lips, and _bites._

This is the part they hadn’t rehearsed. Minghao can’t quite stop a shallow gasp from escaping her at the feeling of Seokmin’s lips on her skin, her fangs drawing blood. It’s a shallow wound, barely enough to bleed, but Minghao feels electric, skin too large and too small all at once. She isn't floating though, grounded by her blood on Seokmin’s lips.

Seokmin lets the blood drip into the cup she’s holding before licking Minghao’s wrist, sealing in the puncture marks. She sets the cup down and picks up the other one, presenting it to Minghao.

“Blood, so we may know it is true.”

 _We_ as in _my family_ , as in _me_ , as in _the covens and anyone else who has doubted we would arrive here safely_.

Minghao takes it, aware of the myriad eyes on her, and not caring in the least. “Blood, so that I might know your heart.” Seokmin smiles, and it’s private, just for the two of them. Minghao can read what she’s saying. _You have my heart as well._

Seokmin’s wrist is soft beneath Minghao’s fingers as she brings it to her mouth. She bites down gently, gently, pulling back the minutes she feels blood starting to well up. Then, she licks her lips. Seokmin’s blood is warm in her mouth, and Minghao eyes it dripping into the wine. When there is enough, she pulls it back, running her tongue over her wrist to close the wounds.

Seokmin is looking at her, a smear of Minghao’s blood still on her lips, stars in her eyes. She picks up the cup she had set down, not looking away from Minghao.

Minghao can’t look away either. As one they raise the cups to their lips. To one side, the officiant of the wedding says, “By blood, your union is true.”

Minghao drinks. It tastes like summer and honey on her tongue. When she puts down her cup, she can’t help but smile. Her world has narrowed itself down to just one—no, two—people. Seokmin is in front of her, and to her right somewhere, is Mingyu. Minghao is fiercely glad that Mingyu is watching this. There’s no one she’d rather have witnessing their vows. 

It’s almost a shock to turn to the crowd and see them still there, but Minghao retains enough sense to know what happens next. With shaking hands, she reaches over to the side opposite of the now empty cups and picks up a wooden goose. Across from her, Seokmin does the same.

They stand and bow to each other again before parting. Minghao walks towards the collected vampire covens on one side of the hall, and Seokmin walks towards the human politicians on the other. Both sides of the hall have a set of relatives among them, and as Minghao kneels before Seokmin’s parents, she hopes her nerves don’t show.

Silently, she offers the goose to the vampires in front of her. Wild geese mate for life. Minghao reaches out, and offers a promise: Seokmin is, if not the first, the last love of Minghao’s life. She will love and honor her for that entirety, no matter how long that life may be.

Seokmin’s mother is the one to take the goose, smiling a little at Minghao. “Go with our blessings, my daughter. I believe you will do great things together.” 

Minghao nods back, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. For some reason it’s this last bit of ceremony that has her blinking back tears. She turns away and back towards Seokmin, the two of them meeting in the middle. They face the audience, and everyone in the room knows that they belong to each other now. No going back. Everyone knows that Xu Minghao is in love, the forever kind, and Seokmin wants her too. It’s enough to make her head spin.

Seokmin takes her hand and Minghao squeezes it.

Just behind their parents, second row, aisle seat, is Mingyu. She’s already crying, looks like she had been for a while, but she’s smiling too. Minghao smiles back and out of the corner of her eye she can see Seokmin do the same. The marriage officiant walks up behind them and takes their joined hands, raising them high.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the brides!” The sound the audience makes is thunderous. 

* * *

A month before the wedding is scheduled to take place, Seokmin gives Mingyu one more lesson. Mingyu walks into the living room to find Seokmin sitting on the couch, one hand turning her engagement ring around in circles. It’s around midnight, meaning the whole household has been up for a couple of hours.

The lights are dim. A wire-fine tension is pulled over Seokmin’s temples, and her shoulders are hunched inward. When Mingyu walks in, she looks up with a jerk, like a bird startled into flight. “Who is— oh, Mingyu.” She puts her hands under her legs. “How are you doing?”

Mingyu is in casual clothes—it’s one of her rare days off. She feels strangely underdressed beside Seokmin, who is wearing an evening gown, pale gold with a collar of white fur. “I’m fine. Where are you headed?”

Seokmin sighs and tips her head back onto the couch, hands still pinned in place. “To lunch. One of my uncles is coming to the city to meet Minghao. She was supposed to be there, but—”

“The coven leaders,” Mingyu finishes, Minghao’s schedule coming easily to mind.

“Exactly.” Seokmin blows out a breath. “She’s been working on this meeting for months now, I can’t ask her to try and reschedule just because my uncle decided to visit.”

“She’d probably try, too.” Mingyu observes, carefully neutral. Minghao wouldn’t want to jeopardize the meeting, but neither Mingyu nor Seokmin doubt that she’d do her best to reschedule if Seokmin asked. Which is precisely why she wouldn’t.

“He’s arriving at the Blue Water in an hour, and I don’t know how to tell him that Minghao can’t come.” The Blue Water was one of the most discreet restaurants in Seoul, serving humans and vampires both. Seokmin's uncle was pulling out all the stops. Seokmin brings a hand up to her face, as if to rub a hand over her eyes, and Mingyu puts a hand to her wrist.

At Seokmin’s confused glance Mingyu says, “Your makeup.”

Seokmin smiles at her, tight but still real. “Thanks. Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out somehow.”

It’s just like Seokmin to try and reassure her, as if she’s not the one with the problem. Mingyu holds that thought between her palms and asks, “What does your uncle want to know?”

Seokmin sends her a confused look but replies, “The same thing all my relatives have been asking. Whether she’s fit to marry me.”

“If you want,” Mingyu offers, careful with her words, “I could come along?”

Seokmin’s eyebrows jump. “You don’t have to. I’m not sure what more you could offer besides moral support. My uncle is not… the most pleasant person to be around.”

Mingyu is already thinking about her closet, and how quickly she can change. “You haven’t met my aunts.” She stands up and jogs towards the door. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back in a minute!”

“Isn’t this you day off?” Seokmin calls after her, but Mingyu doesn’t answer. There’s a custom pinstripe suit in her closet—a gift from Minghao—and she has about half an hour before they should leave the house. The Blue Water is half an hour away on a good day, discounting traffic. 

“Just hold on!”

It’s probably the fastest Mingyu has ever gotten dressed for a formal event. She spares a moment to be glad that she had already showered today, before brushing back her hair and throwing on the bare minimum of makeup.

When she gets back to Seokmin’s side, only fifteen minutes have passed. There's something of Minghao in the way Seokmin looks at her outfit before nodding approvingly. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Mingyu grins. “Your uncle will be so impressed with us that he won’t think to ask you questions at all.”

Seokmin snorts inelegantly, and pulls herself to her feet. “After you then.”

Mingyu pulls the door to the living room open and gestures extravagantly. “No, after you my lady. I insist.” It gets Seokmin to laugh for real, and Mingyu can’t stop herself from feeling pleased.

The trip down to the car is quick, and before she knows it, they’re off. Hansol is driving, and Mingyu and Seokmin are sitting in the back. Seokmin is back to rolling her ring around, expression fixed on the scenery outside. 

Mingyu gives her a few minutes, but when Seokmin doesn’t say anything else she asks, “Was that all of it?”

Seokmin starts, like she had been lost in thought, and turns to look at Mingyu. “What?”

Mingyu takes a second to think. She wants to ask what’s wrong, but long years with Seokmin have taught her that a direct question like that is just asking to be brushed off. She tries for a more diplomatic approach—Minghao would be proud. “You look awfully serious for someone going to see her family.”

Seokmin grimaces, and turns away from the window. Mingyu counts it as a victory. “It’s not that. I love my uncle, I really do. It’s just— He’s going to ask questions I don’t have the answers to.”

“Like what?”

“Like—” Mingyu can barely hear Seokmin’s sigh over the hum of the car, but she looks tired. “Did you know, when I finally got the word that I was to be married, my uncle called me. We both knew that this was a marriage in name only—it didn’t have to be anything I didn’t want it to be, but he still offered me a way out. He didn’t have to. But he did.”

Mingyu just hums, and waits. Eventually Seokmin continues. “I’ve always known I would marry for politics. I never imagined I could marry for love as well.” When she finally looks up, there’s a smile on her face, small but true. “Minghao is it, for me. I would choose her every time. Sometimes it’s frightening, just how lucky I am to get to marry her.”

Mingyu’s throat is dry. “I’m glad.” 

Seokmin turns her engagement ring over again. “I’m not sure if my uncle will understand, though. And what he says… it makes me wonder. If it wasn’t for the circumstances, would we even have met? Would I have sought her out anyway?”

If it wasn’t for the circumstances, a lot of things would have been different. Mingyu doesn’t voice the thought out loud though. “Do you regret it?”

Seokmin looks at her. “No, I could never. But—”

“But relax,” Mingyu interrupts. “Why spend time on what-ifs?”

Seokmin’s hands still, and she looks at her. “I spent my entire life on what-ifs before—” she bites out. Cuts herself off. Takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I just… this is why I didn’t want you to come along. It’ll be worse once my uncle gets here.”

Mingyu nods, taking one of her hands in apology. “You two are good for each other," she says. "You might have met because of outside circumstances, but you said it yourself. It didn't have to be more than a marriage for appearances. You two made it more than that, and you know Minghao. Your uncle doesn't, and nothing he says is going to change what you have. Besides, I'm here. Let me distract him.”

Seokmin nods slowly. "I'm glad you're here, Mingyu."

A minute later, the car pulls up in front of the Blue Water. Hansol cranes around towards them both. “Ready to go?”

“One second,” Mingyu says. She turns back to Seokmin. “What about this: we walk in together, you talk for a while, and then I stun him with my incredible wit until it’s time for us to go?

“Lesson sixty seven,” Seokmin says, eyes closed with resigned humor. She gets out of the car, and leans her head back in. “My uncle hates puns.”

Mingyu looks at the smile on her face with satisfaction, and steps out of the car as well. She’ll keep that in mind. What is the purpose of a bodyguard after all, if not to deflect attention?

* * *

The drive to the reception is short, Mingyu making sure to take back roads on the way to the hall they booked for the occasion. Seokmin and Minghao are in the backseat, talking quietly. When they get there, she opens the car door for the two of them, waiting until they step out to wave Joshua forward. He’ll drop off the car somewhere safe, and return it before the night is over so Mingyu can drive the brides back to the ambassador’s quarters.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, the newly married couple haven't planned on traveling for their honeymoon. Mingyu has quietly arranged for them to have a few days off before returning to work, though. She’s not sure if either of them know yet. 

The reception is happening in a ballroom, a thing of vaulted ceilings and swathes of golden light. There’s an attached banquet room being prepared with food. As they walk up, Mingyu can see people already in the ballroom, a sea of bright formal attire. The guests—which include half the important political figures in Seoul at the moment, and all of the city’s coven leaders—talk over and under each other, all of it combining to present a wall of frighteningly important sound. 

Mingyu wants to take a moment to reassess before walking in, but neither Minghao nor Seokmin pause. Right before the door, Minghao offers her arm to Seokmin, smiling when she takes it. 

Three steps behind them, Mingyu watches the way they command the room’s attention. Seokmin holds onto Minghao’s arm like it is a sword she has unsheathed, glittering and dangerous and beautiful. The two of them have always had a commanding presence, but here in the room, everyone’s eyes on them, it’s nearly magnetic. 

When they reach the main room, the two brides separate, both of them headed to greet their guests. Mingyu trails after Seokmin and Hansol walks behind Minghao. Mingyu watches the two of them vanish into the crowd before following Seokmin. Nearly every vampire she passes gives Seokmin a nod of respect, stopping for quiet conversations here and there. 

Mingyu is acutely aware of how she must look, walking behind her like a wayward guard dog. She’s wearing a sharply tailored suit, one with space for weapons, but it’s nothing like the guests’ attire. She looks like the bodyguard she is—like someone who belongs only by technicality.

As Seokmin slowly works her way through the crowd, someone steps up to Mingyu’s side, walking alongside her. When she looks over, it’s someone she doesn’t recognize. 

The vampire—and she must be a vampire, from the lightness in her step to the wildness in the set of her jaw—looks ageless. Her hair is grey, almost white, at her temples, and there are fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, but her back is strong and unbowed, and her head is held high. She’s shorter than Mingyu, but then again, most people are.

She doesn’t say anything for a while, just walks next to Mingyu, and Mingyu keeps an eye on her even as she continues to follow Seokmin. Finally, when Seokmin starts talking to the leader of the North Coven, the other person speaks up. “Are you looking for another job after this, by any chance?”

Mingyu stops in her tracks. “Excuse me?”

The vampire woman sniffs, turning her gaze from Mingyu to Seokmin. “After this, are you in need of employment? I thought I spoke plainly the first time.”

“What do you mean by “after this”?” Mingyu asks, hands clenching unconsciously

There’s a long moment where the woman just looks at her, unblinking. Mingyu swallows. The woman narrows her eyes. “Do you really think that you will be of any use to them after this?”

It’s as if someone had dumped ice water down her spine. Mingyu freezes. “I don’t understand.” Her lips feel numb.

“Don’t play with me, girl.” She sends a speaking glance towards where Seokmin is surrounded by half of Seoul’s vampire elite. She looks incredible, turning heads and hearts with every gesture she makes. “Now that they’re married, people will be begging to guard the first vampiric ambassador to Seoul. It’s not a position you’ll likely keep.”

Neither Seungcheol nor Minghao had mentioned anything like that. Mingyu clings to that thought even as she feels her heart constrict. Minghao was willing to break up with her once, to secure the opportunity. What was the difference between a marriage and a bodyguard assignment?

A lot, actually.

Mingyu won’t kid herself. She knows how Minghao works, has known her for more than a decade. Minghao was a possessive teen, and had grown into a careful adult, watchful of the people around her. There is no way she will just drop Mingyu, especially not after assigning her to Seokmin. 

_There’s no one in the guard I trust more than you._

It wasn’t politics, it wasn’t a maneuver, it was simply Minghao, who loves like gravity, like a sunrise. It might not be the kind of love Mingyu can touch, but she knows she won’t be cast aside so easily. And there’s Seokmin, too. Mingyu is less certain there, but no less resolute. So she looks at the woman in the eyes and says, “Respectfully, I’m not looking for any other opportunities at the moment. I don’t believe that will change in the future, but thank you for your interest.”

She sniffs, making a show of giving Mingyu a once over. “If you must, continue to cling to them, just know that you’ll be discarded eventually.”

“Pardon me,” says another voice. It’s Seokmin, looking over at them from her knot of coven leaders. She walks towards them quickly, eyes narrowed just a shade. Mingyu turns to position herself at her back, when Seokmin takes her wrist. A simple tug, and Mingyu is standing at her side. Seokmin’s fingers feel like a brand on her skin. “I’d appreciate it if you refrained from distracting my guard while she is working.”

This is how closeness becomes a knife—a gesture held between them and brandished at anyone standing too close. The woman takes a step back. “My apologies, Seokmin-ssi. I’ll be taking my leave now.”

She walks away, and Seokmin turns to her. “Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to—”

Mingyu smiles at her. “Thank you.” She doesn’t say anything else. Despite the crowd, she knows the woman can probably still hear them.

Seokmin still hasn’t let go of her wrist. Her eyes are searching. For what, Mingyu doesn’t know. “You know we wouldn’t do that, right? That I want yo—”

Mingyu never finds out what she’s going to say next, because in the next moment, a small black shape is tossed over the crowd. Mingyu catches it out of the corner of her eye, falling in slow motion. The part of her that never stops watching takes note of it, and turns. Tackles Seokmin. At her back, there’s a small _whoomp,_ and then there is _light._

The ballroom flashes bright as noon, a star imploding behind them. A split-second later a _bang_ follows, a concussive blast strong enough to rattle Mingyu’s internal organs. She coughs, the static and smoke heavy on her tongue.

Another second passes, and Mingyu lifts her head. Her ears are ringing, high and thin, and the room seems to wobble very slightly. One more second passes, and then people start screaming. 

Mingyu looks back at Seokmin, offering her a hand up. There’s no one hurt as far as she can tell, but looking around, any sort of order the room had has vanished. People are getting up from where they had turned away from the blast, and running—some towards the door, some towards Seokmin. 

Seokmin squeezes her hand, and looks around the room as well. “What was that?”

“It means we need to get out of here,” Mingyu replies, turning away from the crowd. She can’t see Minghao, either in the people coming towards them, or the people leaving, but she can’t worry about that right now. Minghao entrusted Seokmin’s safety to her, and they can’t stay in a room people are throwing bombs in. 

When she moves to tug them away though, Seokmin stops her. “Where’s Minghao?”

“I don’t know, but we have to go, it isn’t safe here anymore.” Mingyu turns, trying to scan the entire ballroom at once, and spots Junhui pushing his way through the crowd. She waves a hand at him, and he reorients in her direction, shoving people out of the way. 

Seokmin still isn’t moving. “We can’t leave without Minghao, didn’t you see the bomb?”

Mingyu turns to look at her. “Yes, that’s exactly why we need to leave.”

“You’re not listening!” Seokmin points at the ballroom floor, where a dark mark has been scorched into the floor. “That wasn’t a sunbomb, that was something different. Sunbombs don’t produce heat, just sunlight.”

Mingyu freezes, doing the math in her head. Seokmin is right. And there's something else, too: while she had been able to cover Seokmin, many of the other vampire guests had no such luck, their bodyguards failing to shield them in time. If that was a sunbomb—made with real concentrated sunlight and magic—half of the people standing near it should have been sporting major burns. There was none of that. So that meant, “You think that was just a distraction?”

Seokmin nods, eyes flicking back and forth. “Whoever did this didn’t want to kill people, they just wanted people to leave the room.”

Mingyu swears and looks for Junhui. He’s almost there, still fighting the crowd. “Listen, I’ll go look for Minghao, but you’ve got to get out of here.” Seokmin still doesn’t budge, and Mingyu pushes her at Junhui when he arrives. “Go! I’ll catch up.”

She doesn’t look to see if Seokmin had listened to her before diving into the crowd. “Minghao? Minghao? Where are you? We have to go.”

The crush of people seems endless, and Mingyu uses her height to her advantage, craning to see over the tops of people’s heads. She pushes through another set of people in formal wear running for the exit and yells again. “Minghao?”

She’s nowhere to be seen. 

Mingyu swears her heart is beating double time. Any time she sees a flash of dark hair and pearls in her peripheral she’ll turn, pushing through the crowd only to be disappointed. Finally, she gets all the way to the back of the ballroom. There’s a clear space here, all the people running towards the front door leaving it empty. The back wall has a series of doors leading to the balcony outside, and a series of windows set high up.

She’s about to turn around and head back into the crowd, when one of the doors catches her eye. It’s ajar just a bit, letting a slice of moonlight through. They should all be closed. Mingyu walks over to it, and opens it wider slowly. Cold air rushes in. From beyond the doorframe, come voices.

One of them is Minghao’s.

Mingyu stops herself from making a sound and takes a deep breath, trying to listen. She can barely make out the words, but Minghao sounds like ice. “Who are you?”

A laugh. “No one important. Not that someone like you would know, all in your high and mighty tower.” The other voice is deep and edged with a rasp.

Mingyu can’t quite hear what Minghao says in response, but the other person’s response is clear. “Shut up! You have no room to talk, surrounding yourself with them. You’ve forgotten where you came from, and I’m going to make you remember.”

This time, Minghao’s voice is clear. “I don’t know why you think cornering me, an ambassador, will do anything, but—”

The other person cuts her off with another laugh, something that trails off into a wet cough. Mingyu takes the opportunity to inch the door open farther and peek her head around. What she sees makes her blood run cold. 

Minghao is backed against a railing to the left of the door, out of sight of the windows. In front of her is a man in black, holding something in his right hand. It’s a contraption of dark metal and wires, and within its confines glimmers the faintest hint of gold. A sunbomb. The balcony is a long stretch of white marble, extending over a garden below. 

“I tried to get you freaks to stop,” the man says, gesturing with the bomb. He wobbles a little, unsteady. “One of these in your pretty wife’s bedroom and I thought that would be enough to stop you, but no, you just kept going. I watched and watched the newspapers and you didn’t even announce my little gift.” His voice gets higher and higher as he goes on, cracking like rotten wood on the consonants. 

Mingyu starts sneaking out onto the balcony, feet light on the marble. She can see the moment when Minghao notices her, because her eyes widen, and her head makes a small jerk. Mingyu puts a finger to her lips and walks towards them as fast as she can. The man in front of her doesn’t seem to notice. “I have a friend in covens you know, keeps me up to date on all of you sick fucks. They said you were still going to be married, and for what? Peace talks? Don’t make me laugh.”

“My marriage was for more than just peace,” Minghao says, like she can’t quite help it. Mingyu winces. She walks forward as quickly as she dares, cursing the floor, cursing the situation. Her shoes seem thunderous on the marble, but the man doesn’t turn around. 

He laughs. His free hand gestures wildly towards his face, still hidden from sight. “Do you see what you did to me? Do you think peace could ever be an option?” It’s like he isn’t even listening to Minghao.

Mingyu is almost within reach of the two of them, and the man is still talking. She sends a look towards Minghao. _Hold on_. “You asked who I am? I’m the next coming of the vampire hunters. And your death will be the end of peace.” With those words, he goes to pull the pin on the sunbomb. Mingyu only has time to see Minghao’s eyes widen before she closes the last few feet and dives towards them. 

The man grunts when she runs into him shoulder first, hands snatching the bomb from his loose fingers. In the next second Mingyu is on top of it, shielding the balcony from its explosion. _It’s just sunlight. It’s just sunlight. It’s just sunlight. It can’t hurt me._ She shuts her eyes tight. Hangs on.

And with a tiny click, the bomb beneath her goes off. 

It doesn’t have any heat, Seokmin was right about that. Mingyu can feel only the briefest surge of air pressure beneath her, like the settling of wings, before there is _light._

It’s impossible to taste sunlight, but it floods her mouth anyway, drowning her in fire. Mingyu keeps her eyes shut as the sun-drenched magic pours itself into her bones, into her blood. It doesn’t have any heat, but she burns anyway. She’s swallowed a sunrise, the light blooming bright— unmanageable—

And then it is over. Mingyu slumps to the floor, breath coming in shallow gasps. Behind her, the man makes an inarticulate sound of rage, and kicks her, boot landing heavily in her ribs. Something in her chest _snaps._ Mingyu chokes, copper on her tongue. 

“What did you do? Why would you save her, do you know what vampires _are?”_ He draws back to kick her again, and Mingyu winces, curling around the husk of the sunbomb. She braces for impact, and suddenly Minghao is there with a fist to his face. 

The man stumbles backwards, clutching his bleeding nose, and Minghao nearly snarls. “Don’t touch her.”

“You bitch!” The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a knife. It’s a slice of moonlight-on-water, etched with runes that seem to devour the light.

“Minghao!” Mingyu manages to choke out a warning, though her ribs creak as she breathes in. “Watch out, that’s silver.”

“I’ve got it,” Minghao murmurs back, “Don’t worry.”

 _That’s my line,_ Mingyu wants to say, trying to get up. Her veins feels like they’re pumping molten glass, and her ribs shift with every wrong move, but she keeps trying. The high ringing noise has taken back up residence between her ears, and her eyes are covered in sunspots. It fades a little after a couple seconds, and she manages to get an arm underneath her.

When she finally gets onto her knees, it’s to see Minghao in front of her, pinning the man to the ground. She bares her teeth and disarms him, sending the knife skittering away. With a heave, she flips him over, tearing off part of her dress’s hem to bind his hands and feet. Then, quick as flipping a switch, she knocks him out. She looks up at Mingyu with a grin, and Mingyu smiles back.

There’s still something not quite right about all of this, but Mingyu ignores it in favor of getting up. She pushes herself to her feet, hand to her ribs, and finally remembers to hit her radio. “Junhui? It’s Mingyu, I found Minghao, but there’s been an attack. We’re on the north balcony.” She coughs, ribs flaring with pain. Minghao nearly teleports to her side, bracing her with an arm around her back.

Junhui’s voice comes back choppy across the radio line. “Copy that Mingyu, I’m headed in your direction now. Hang on tight, we’re coming.”

“We?” Mingyu asks, and starts walking towards the door, Minghao shouldering most of her weight.

“Seokmin is with me. Hang on, we’ll be there in a minute.”

“Wait, don’t you—” Mingyu starts, but Junhui doesn’t answer. 

Minghao pulls her up farther. “Come on, let’s get inside.”

Mingyu nods, breathes in, winces. “Let’s.”

They’re almost to the door, Mingyu taking the smallest steps she can, when something hits them both in the side. Mingyu topples over, sparks and shadows dancing before her eyes. She thinks she screams, she’s not quite sure.

When she opens her eyes, it’s to see Minghao wrestling with someone in black. The two of them are evenly matched, hands blurring faster than Mingyu can track.

_Vampire._

In the back of her head, Hansol is saying " _I don't think this could have been done alone_ ", echoed by the man saying, " _I have a friend in covens you know_ ". Mingyu curses. When she breaths in, the night air is cold in the lungs. She should have expected this.

There’s a knife tucked away in the back of her suit, and Mingyu puts her hand to it, but doesn’t pull it out. There’s no way she could wade in and not be a liability, or even throw it and not hit Minghao.

There is a reason that their guard includes equal parts humans and vampires. It's for covering each other's weaknesses. Humans can take sunlight and silver, vampires can deal with the rest. But right now there’re no vampires around to help, and Minghao is on her own. Mingyu presses down on her radio. “Junhui, you need to hurry. Bring a vampire with you.”

There’s no answer. Mingyu hopes that’s because Junhui is running, not because he’s been delayed by something else. Minghao is still fighting, but it’s clear that she’s outmatched. The other vampire snarls, and grabs her arm, throwing her over his shoulder. Minghao wheezes, rolling over before the other vampire can get near.

“Who are you? What are you doing?” Minghao asks, but he doesn’t answer, lunging for her with a snarl. The sound of their shoes on the marble is loud, and Mingyu swears she can feel it like her own heartbeat. Minghao dodges out of the way of his lunge and they’re back at it again, moving like a fast-forward film. 

Mingyu breathes slow and even, trying her best to track what’s going on. One of the vampires, Mingyu can’t tell if it is Minghao or not, slams a foot down so hard that the marble balcony shivers. There’s a glitter of something that looks almost like silver—the knife from earlier, picked up again—but Mingyu isn’t sure who grabbed it.

And then the balcony door slams open. Seokmin runs through the doorway like a specter of death. Mingyu only sees her in flashes: lunging towards the fight, slipping in under his guard, helping Minghao pin the other vampire down.

Finally, they still. Minghao is holding down the vampire’s wrists, Seokmin bent over his chest opposite her, on hand holding his shoulder down. Seokmin’s teeth are bloody. The vampire’s throat is torn. From his loosening hand tumbles the silver knife, red along one edge. 

When Seokmin draws back, the front of her dress is spattered with blood, and her mouth is dripping. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing red over her jawline. Standing, she says, “Sorry you had to see that.” 

Mingyu is still blinking sunbursts from her eyes. Nods, shakily. Seokmin nods back, smiles, and then— 

With a dull thud, Seokmin’s knees hit the balcony, and she keels over, one hand pressed to her stomach. Mingyu can make out a slow stain blooming out from beneath her fingers, dark and wet.

Two voices ring out in unison. 

“Seokmin?” 

“Xingan?”

Mingyu drops to her knees across from Minghao, Seokmin curled into herself between them. One of her hands is pressed tight to her stomach, and her eyes are squeezed shut. Mingyu’s hands flutter above her back. 

“Are you ok?” She’s not sure which one of them says it, but Seokmin’s eyes squint open. 

“I’m fi— _Ah!”_ Seokmin winces, curling a little tighter in on herself. “Hurts.”

Minghao grabs her free hand, holding tight, waves Junhui over. “Can you get help?”

“It’s already on the way. Emergency services won’t get here for another ten minutes.” Junhui pulls out his phone. “I’ll tell them to hurry.”

Mingyu notices all of that only in passing, attention fixed on Seokmin’s face. It’s growing paler with every passing moment, nearly waxy. _Silver poisoning._ Seokmin coughs and winces, eyes growing pinched at the corners. Her eyes flutter shut, just for a second, and Minghao shakes her frantically. “Don’t leave now Seokmin. Xingan, come on. We have the whole night before us. Come on, look at us.”

Seokmin tips her face up, leaning into Minghao’s hands. “Aein?” 

Minghao presses her free hand to Seokmin’s jaw. “Stay with us now. Look, Mingyu’s right here.”

Seokmin turns and smiles. A raw thing, blood and wry pain. “Sorry you have to see this.” It's the awful cousin to her words of only a minute ago.

“I’ve seen worse,” Mingyu replies, though at the moment she can’t think of anything. Seokmin smiles back. A film of sweat is breaking out over her face, and she’s shivering. “Don’t worry, we’re right here. You’ll be ok.”

“Ah,” Seokmin exhales. Minghao slowly moves her so she’s on her back and puts pressure on the wound. Seokmin makes a little hurt sound, but Minghao doesn’t take the pressure away.

“Your hand was slipping.” The way she looks at Seokmin is broken open, red and aching. “Use mine for a bit, ok?”

Meanwhile, Mingyu is taking off her suit jacket. Her hands fumble trying to undo the buttons at her cuff, ripping it open when they won’t yield. The buttons go flying towards her feet, bouncing out of sight. They might be real mother of pearl. She doesn’t care. Without bothering to fold it neatly, she shoves her sleeve up, revealing her wrist. 

Seokmin makes a confused noise when Mingyu pulls her up into a sitting position, head tipped back on Mingyu’s shoulder. Minghao shifts with them until half of Seokmin’s weight is resting on Mingyu’s chest. “Mingyu? What are you doing?”

Mingyu doesn’t answer in words, pressing her wrist to Seokmin’s lips. “Drink.”

“What?” Seokmin’s words whisper over the vulnerable skin of Mingyu’s wrist.

Mingyu doesn’t move. “We both know you need to, come on.” When Seokmin continues to hesitate, Mingyu says, “ _Please_.”

That does it. Seokmin breathes in, lays a kiss to Mingyu’s wrist, and _bites._

Her fangs sink into Mingyu’s skin like a hot knife through butter, and Mingyu closes her eyes. Seokmin was right, it doesn’t hurt at all. All she can feel is the quick well of her blood and Seokmin’s tongue on her wrist, drinking it all in. In her arms, Seokmin warms slowly, like the first sunlight of spring. Mingyu presses her face into Seokmin’s hair, breathes in. 

She must make a noise of some sort, because Seokmin pulls away hesitantly. She’s still shaking a little bit though, so Mingyu pushes her wrist back forward. “I’m good, keep going.”

Seokmin doesn’t need anymore encouragement, fangs pricking Mingyu’s wrist again. There’s no high to it, no venom or endorphins, but she still feels like she's swallowed a thunderstorm, hands trembling just a little. Maybe it’s the adrenaline. Maybe it’s just Seokmin.

Mingyu can’t say how much longer it is before Seokmin pulls back. Her tongue runs over the puncture marks she had left until there’s nothing left but pink skin, new and tender. She’s not shaking anymore. Mingyu has one moment to feel accomplished; when she opens her eyes Minghao is looking at her like— like something Mingyu can’t even put into words.

One moment. And then she feels her head start to spin. “I think it would be a good idea for me to lie down now.”

“Mingyu?” Minghao reaches out and Seokmin rolls off of her at the same time; Mingyu falls into Minghao’s hands gratefully. She’s strong, strong enough that Mingyu’s entire body weight doesn’t even make her move. It’s unfair. 

Mingyu goes to the gym all the time, but Minghao—who had stopped going the minute she realized the benefits of being a vampire—can probably dead-lift three times Mingyu’s best. Probably three Mingyus too. It’s a nice thought, and Mingyu laughs to herself, quietly.

“Mingyu?” Minghao asks again, and shit. She sounds worried. Mingyu opens her eyes—when had she closed them?—and looks at her. Minghao puts her hand on Mingyu’s cheek and Mingyu leans into it. It feels nice to touch Minghao and not think too hard about it. “Don’t worry, emergency medical services are almost here.”

Mingyu nods, turning towards Seokmin. “You’re ok, right?”

Seokmin takes her hand in both of hers. “I am. You should have stopped me earlier.”

In the winter night, Seokmin’s hands are warm. _That’s me,_ Mingyu thinks blearily. _I’m under her skin._ “But you needed it. You’re important.” She’s not sure her meaning gets across; words seems to float just out of her reach, most of them escaping her entirely. 

Seokmin laughs, watery, and presses Mingyu’s hand to her forehead. “We’re going to have to talk when you’re more coherent.”

That’s fine. Mingyu always wants to talk to Seokmin. With that thought she drifts off, darkness sweeping over her like a wave.

* * *

Loving Minghao was easy. Mingyu practically tripped into it, a steady warmth burning beneath her breastbone, a lamplight that led her to cross countries, to ask Minghao's mother for a job with a flock of doves on her tongue.

Loving Seokmin came later, came harder. Mingyu tripped into it too, but at the bottom of the feeling was a tangle of complications. The circumstances don't change her feelings though, which only grow—a sunrise over her shoulders, tipping light into the space behind her eyes.

Mingyu falls in love with the way Seokmin takes her tea, with how she treats her old cat, with her dreams of peace. She falls in love between 1am trips to fast food restaurants during finals week, and 8pm breakfasts made together, elbows knocking together in the kitchen. She falls in love with the way Seokmin looks at Minghao, stars in her eyes.

And Seokmin remains three feet out of reach the whole time, standing right next to Minghao. Mingyu doesn't mind it as much as she should. At least this way, there is no danger of her messing things up.

She's here to guard, not to touch. A museum guard doesn't have to be an artist, only someone ready and willing to watch.

And Mingyu is good at that. She spends a lot of time watching.

* * *

When Mingyu wakes, her whole body is one big ache. It’s not as bad as she thought it would be though, and when her eyes flutter open, it’s to a familiar bedroom. Seokmin and Minghao’s bedroom. Dawn is filtering through the sun-shields on the windows, spilling hazy gold over the walls.

Mingyu blinks. The night’s events come rushing back in an instant, making her head spin. Are Seokmin and Minghao safe?

She must make some sort of noise then, because beside her there’s movement. Someone places their hand on her shoulder. “Mingyu? Are you awake?”

Mingyu tries to speak, but the words get stuck on the back of her tongue, throat dry. She coughs instead, rasps, rolls onto one side. Someone hands her a glass of water and someone else props her upright in bed. Mingyu drinks, slowly downing the whole glass, and looks around her.

To her left is Seokmin, sitting on the bed. A little farther down, near her legs, is Minghao, pitcher of water in hand. “Are you ok?” Mingyu asks, eyes flicking between them. She leans towards the two of them, disregarding the way it makes all of her aches come to life at once.

Seokmin rearranges the pillows behind her and pushes her into them, gently. “We’re fine. Minghao and I made it back home safely. How are you feeling?”

Mingyu takes a moment to let the words digest, breathing in the comfort of having her charges safe. When she tries to take a deep breath there's a bright dart of pain from her ribcage and a tight band that stops her before she can go much further. Looking down, she can see the edge of bandages through the neck of her shirt. Which, on second glance isn’t her shirt at all. It’s Minghao’s. She's not wearing her wedding suit anymore.“I’m fine. A little sore, but not too bad. What happened after I passed out?”

It’s Minghao who answers, grabbing Mingyu’s glass of water and filling it again. “Careful. The doctor said one of your ribs was broken and a couple others were bruised. To answer your question—not much happened after you passed out. The police arrived, along with emergency services. We rode with you to the hospital while the police arrested the man who cornered me.”

She doesn’t mention the vampire Seokmin had killed, and Mingyu doesn’t ask. Technically under vampire law, he had condemned himself the moment he attacked Seokmin. In practice, the government took selective notice of things like that—which was just another practice Minghao aimed to change. She doesn't want to know what they had decided to do with this case yet. 

Minghao continues, “They released us pretty quickly after I told them the embassy had a doctor. So we brought you back,” she hesitates for a heartbeat, “home. And now you’re here.”

Mingyu nods, leaning on Seokmin subtly. In reality it's probably not that subtle, but she figures she has an excuse. She can return to her proper distances tomorrow. The day after. Whenever she is cleared to be back on duty. Seokmin’s shoulder is comfortable—hopefully it takes a while.

Mingyu is stuck contemplating their position, before realizing that Minghao stopped speaking. “Thank you.” Her head still feels a little unspooled, the space behind her eyes filled with light. 

Underneath her head, Seokmin shifts a little, and turns to her. It dislodges Mingyu a little, and she mourns the distance, even as Seokmin says, “I think we should have that conversation now.”

Suddenly the room doesn’t seem so warm. Mingyu pulls away from her entirely and looks her in the eyes. “I won’t apologize for what I did. You were... You were dying.”

“That’s not—” Seokmin breaks off, turning to Minghao. “Can you explain?”

Minghao smiles, just a little wry. “Sure.” She turns to Mingyu, and that same unknowable _something_ is back on her face. Mingyu resists the urge to wrinkle her brow. While she doesn’t always know what Minghao is thinking, normally she can at least _guess._ This expression is like trying to read a page in Korean and suddenly not have it make sense. 

“Explain what?” she asks.

Minghao stands and walks over the dresser, picking something up from within one of its draws before returning to the bedside. “What we wanted to say before our wedding.”

Mingyu's heart picks up. “Are you sure it can’t wait?”

Minghao looks at her. Steady. “Do you want it to?”

To her left, Seokmin is tense. Minghao takes a deep breath. “No, not really.” Whatever they had to say, she should listen. The distance between them will only close if she allows it. Mingyu knows how far apart they've been, where inches could mean miles, a distance only compounded by longing. She looks at Seokmin and Minghao, who know just as well as her. She thinks of Seokmin’s mouth on her wrist, Minghao’s hand on her cheek. 

Distance is the shortest line between two points. It is also everything that goes unsaid between three people. Mingyu’s been watching long enough to know there’s only one way to close it.

At her words, Seokmin relaxes just a fraction. Minghao sits down on the bed, near Mingyu’s hip, and holds the box between her hands. “Mingyu, you’ve been by my side for more than half my life.”

Mingyu is not ready for this at all. She turns her head into Seokmin’s shoulder and hides her face. When Minghao stops, she chokes out, “You’re good, continue on.” 

Minghao makes a noise, perhaps of amusement. Seokmin echoes her, and pushes her back to her previous position until she's looking at Minghao again. “Come on, don’t back out now.”

“You’ve known Seokmin for just as long as I have,” Minghao continues. “I don’t want to think of what my life, our life would look like without you. You’ve always been there when we needed you, and I don’t think I’ve said it enough how much I appreciate that.”

When Mingyu was nineteen, freshly moved to Anshan in order to take up her new post, Minghao had spent an entire night with her trying to recreate her mother’s kimchi recipe from memory, even though she had a meeting with another ambassador the next morning. 

When Mingyu was twenty three, and Seokmin had moved across the ocean to finish her degree, Minghao made sure to wake her for their three am facetime calls. _For the company_ , she had said.

When Mingyu was twenty seven, Minghao had taken the process of finding her a formal tuxedo just as seriously as she had undertaken picking out her own wedding gown. 

Mingyu has never had to doubt. 

Next to her Seokmin takes her hand. When Mingyu looks up at her, she’s wearing a smile as if to say _I get it._ Mingyu smiles back.

Minghao is still talking. “When we were kids, I don’t think. I don’t think either of us knew what was going to happen. How things were going to play out. I won’t— can’t apologize for making the choices I did, but you know that—” She stops herself again, looking down at the box. When she looks back up, her mouth is twisted in an uncertain line.

“I know,” Mingyu replies, because she does. She always has. 

Seokmin rubs a thumb over Mingyu’s knuckles. When Mingyu looks up at her, she says, “If you don’t want this, that’s fine but you have to tell us.”

“What’s this?”

Minghao takes a deep breath. “Kim Mingyu, this is us asking for forever.”

Mingyu had been expecting—hoping for—something similar, but the words still make her flush, hot over her cheekbones, down across her neck. “What about your position as ambassador?” She turns to Seokmin. “What about your marriage?”

Seokmin’s cheeks are also red, but she’s looking at Mingyu fondly. “I think my marriage will be just fine.”

Minghao opens the box she’s holding, and hands it to Mingyu. “If you don’t want this, that is another thing, but no excuses.” 

Mingyu knows the shape of her desire. So do Minghao and Seokmin. She takes the box. 

Minghao keeps talking. “And, to answer your question, it would be an excellent move for us to be seen as close to someone who is not a vampire.”

 _So are you proposing a threesome as a political move,_ is on Mingyu’s lips, and dies the moment she sees what’s inside the box.

Nestled within crushed black velvet is a ring. Mingyu pulls it out slowly, and inspects it. The band is made of gold with a small inset diamond and the inside is inscribed with three tiny geese in flight. Mingyu has to close her eyes again. It’s as if the two of them had reached inside her ribcage and pulled out all the things she never let herself hope for, and then set them in metal for her to hold between her fingertips. 

When Mingyu opens her eyes, Seokmin is tense again. Mingyu struggles all the way upright and presses the ring into her hand. Seokmin only has a second to look utterly crushed before Mingyu asks, “Can you put it on me?”

“Is that a yes?” Minghao asks. Sometime when Mingyu hadn’t been looking, she had gotten closer, within arms reach. Close enough to touch.

Mingyu swallows a decade of desire, and closes the distance. “Yes. Of course a thousand times yes. Any way you will have me, yes.”

Minghao’s face splits into a grin. She leans in and presses her lips to Mingyu’s. Kisses her. Mingyu can’t help but melting into it, the sensation both old and new all at once. Minghao kisses like the years since their last one mean nothing, like she’s welcoming Mingyu home. Mingyu tilts her head in return and pushes forward a little until they fit together better and _oh_ Xu Minghao is so much more than she could have ever put into memory. 

When Minghao pulls back, Mingyu can’t help but throw a glance at Seokmin. The other woman catches her look and smiles, eyes creasing. Minghao catches the glance too and says, just a little indignant, “We did talk about this first.”

Seokmin laughs at her and Mingyu joins in. It dies away after a minute and Mingyu is left looking at Seokmin. She’s still holding the ring. Mingyu is overwhelmed anew, puts her hand out, looks at her. “Will you?” She leaves the sentence hanging. Waits. 

Seokmin bites her lip and takes her hand. The metal band is still a little cool as she slides it onto Mingyu’s finger, but Seokmin’s hands are warm. Gentle. The ring fits perfectly, and Mingyu takes a moment to be fondly amused. When they had gotten her ring size, she doesn’t know, but it seems only suitable in the moment. 

For a moment, Mingyu lets herself admire their hands together and the way the ring looks on her finger, shining in the filtered sunlight. When she looks up, Seokmin is smiling at her. Mingyu lets herself smile back. Her attention is caught just for a second on her lips, still a little red. 

It’s a strange mirror of where they were yesterday in the green room, and Mingyu can’t quite help but lean closer. “You’ve got something there,” she says, carefully. With a shaking hand, she smudges a thumb over Seokmin’s bottom lip, smearing the lipstick remaining on them.

"Oh?" Seokmin says, one hand coming up to hold Mingyu's. "What are you going to do about it?" The words sound like _ask me, Kim Mingyu._ They sound like an invitation. 

And really, there's only one way Mingyu can answer that. When they kiss, it’s with Minghao beside them, the sun rising red and gorgeous outside. It’s a question and it’s the answer too.

Mingyu is thirteen and twenty-seven all at once, paint smearing beneath her fingertips, and Seokmin’s lips warm on hers. Her lipstick tastes like cherries, and Mingyu can feel her trying to suppress a smile. She breaks the kiss, heart fluttering like a hummingbird. 

When she looks to her right, Minghao is sitting there, contentment in every inch of her body, and Mingyu reaches out to take her hand just because she can. It feels like the start of something good, something real. It feels like a promise. 

It feels like _I do._

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed this, i'd love it if you left a comment!
> 
> if you'd like to chat i'm on twitter/cc @lavenderim <3


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